Beats of the Heart
by chichirichick
Summary: AU Souleater: The music industry isn't easy, especially when you're trying to hide your name or your past. This is the everyday struggle for Maka and Soul, but will meeting through a mutual friend, Black Star, make it easier or more complicated? Definite trigger warnings for suicide and self injury.
1. A fence by Woo Won Jae

Why am I writing a new AU while I haven't finished my other? Don't ask me. This one is angsty as hell, so sorry in advance, will contain future trigger warnings. I'll point out that I use lyrics from songs, the titles will be part of the chapter titles.

* * *

The refresh of his inbox caught the corner of his eye, prying them from his keyboard as he swiveled the chair from the black and white keys to the computer. It was the simple subject line of "_**Hey!**_" from Maka Albarn, a name that came with an uneasy recognition. First, the last name, unique enough that it had to connect to Spirit Albarn, that playboy music producer who was big enough that she shouldn't be bothering emailing him to begin with. Second, Black Star had already warned him about this or at least _told_ him that he was doing this, producing a song for a girl he didn't know. Third, he _did_ know her, they'd met once a million years ago back when he was Soul Evans and not Soul Eater. Back when he was normal, but she couldn't possibly remember that.

The cursor wiggled over the title to the box to check to delete it and then back to the title. '_She needs someone new'_ was what Black Star had said, but it all smelled fishy, like there was a backstory which Black Star was usually good at blabbing about, but his lips had buttoned after offering the name and the problem.

_And who are you to question someone's backstory? Mr. Missing-for-a-year, barely-leaves-the-house, can't-get-undressed-except-with-yourself. _Soul had enough of the dark little voice, pinching into his leg to try to quell its call. With a slow, unsteady breath he opened the email.

"_BS said I should just wait and he'd bring me to your apartment, but it's almost kind of too weird. I'm Maka Albarn, and yes, I know what my last name makes you think of, but cut me a break, OK? I'm hoping you'll give me a chance. My portfolio isn't that large and my social media is shit (Dad's on me about that all the time but I hate it) but I promise I work hard, I won't flake on you."_ Closed with a phone number. Her signature was generic, that business close to an email, followed by the social media icons hyperlinked to her sites.

Soul humored it, clicking on the Instagram account because that's where these little starlets always shined. Being a singer meant selling your body just as much as your music and he prepared for the boring cycle of shots out with the girls, clips of performances, and finally scantily clad home pics to boost viewership. The first picture fit the mold, a night out with a group of girls he actually recognized, Tsubaki, Liz, Patty, and Kim, all girls he'd gone to high school with. A blip of interest on his radar that he tried to turn off, scrolling to the next image of, well, a book.

Not one of those curated pictures with the cup of coffee with the leaf design in it along with a stylish pair of glasses to hold down the page, but a closed book, taking up most of the picture with just a smidge of wood desk bordering it. Underneath, not some annoying content about how it changed her life or some other humble-brag but a scathing review about the historical inaccuracies along with a complaint about the male lead. His lips broke out into a smirk, something he hadn't done in a while, feeling old and rusty as it spread along his face. He scrolled again.

It alternated strangely between more books, mostly with better reviews, some more pictures of her and friends, food, and finally just two headshots. They looked forced, her decidedly displeased and he could imagine her father forcing them, knowing the game that singers should be playing. It was refreshing, to say the least, much more interesting than any other possibilities he had on any of the burners, especially since he'd been gone for almost an entire year, something that didn't bear reminding.

After rubbing his hands through his hair a couple of times, he hit reply.

* * *

Maka's inbox wasn't a part of her periphery but her entire sight, her finger glued to the refresh as she picked apart the message she'd sent fifteen minutes ago. She was thankful that Black Star would even offer a producer outside of school since, well, she didn't exactly want to think about the reasoning right now, the black hole that was her freshman year at the technical arts college that they all attended should stay just that, blacked out and sucked into eternity. Black Star had apparently been friends with him in high school, this Soul Eater guy, and he had some sort of connections, though the information that she could get from Black Star on that was incredibly thin. At this point, she'd take just about anything as long as it meant she could continue avoiding her father.

After the 600th refresh it popped up, the shining "_**Re: Hey!**_" that she was just about passing out from holding her breath for. She clicked on it, seeing that he was as succinct as he was mysterious: "_Click here, if you're OK with what you hear, BS can bring you tonight."_ He'd hyperlinked the first part, redirection to a digital recording that she could only assume was a song of his. She'd obviously never heard his work so she plugged in her headphones before pushing them into her ears, letting the link load in the process.

The beat was interesting, horns and saxophone almost playful until his voice interrupted, a sullen mumble with words just as moody as the tone. "_Living an imprisoned life, they said I'm the one who imprisoned myself."_ It bordered on the melodramatic, or it would if it weren't for the obviously painful inflection to his voice. "_OK, not okay, OK, I'm no good, really I am okay."_ It was a fight that he was having with himself and for some reason, she felt compelled to fight with him. _He can't be that bad_, she wanted to reason. It seemed too strange that this was the piece that he chose to represent himself, but she couldn't keep herself from liking it. Maybe it seemed over the top, dramatic in a way that was almost like he was full of himself, but Maka could swear that wasn't it. There was something else there.

She hit the reply, "_See you tonight."_

* * *

Black Star was waiting outside her night class, arms crossed with that bask-in-my-presence air that she was by now completely used to. "Maka, heard you got the approval."

"Yeah," Maka answered hesitantly but tried to smile especially as Liz raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Black Star is setting me up with that producer you all know, Soul?"

"Wait, high school Soul?" Liz stopped abruptly, sending her eyes to Black Star. "He's back, or alive or whatever? Since when? He hasn't talked to any of us in like a year."

"Any of _you_," Black Star corrected. "He'd never forget the number one person in his heart, the man that he worships."

Liz laughed before grasping at Black Star's elbow, aggressively bringing him closer to keep the comment between them. "Is he OK?"

"He's Soul," Black Star tried to shrug off the question. "Soul _Eater_ right now, to be exact. You can probably come with tonight if you want. I still can't actually believe he agreed."

"Why?" Maka finally felt the urge to interject between the two of them since she needed to know the insinuation there.

"Not you," Liz corrected even without the consultation of Black Star. "He's kind of… closed off."

"That's the nice way to put it," Black Star rolled his eyes. "But he's my special little idiot, so you better just do what he says, be nice to him."

"I'm always nice!" Maka chopped at Black Star's arm as if that actually proved her point.

'_She's too nice'_ is what Liz wanted to say to Black Star, a kind of hesitation about this meeting making it hard to still refuse the invitation. _She's going to want to fix him once she meets him and he hates that kind of shit. The stuff he holds on to is his own and he'll be damned if he lets that stuff go. _She was slowly settling on the idea that this would be another catastrophe with maybe a ten percent chance of a miracle.

* * *

Her first strange concern was that Black Star had a key to Soul's apartment. Maka knew they were friends, but how normal was it for friends to have keys? To let themselves in tentatively like they weren't sure what they were going to find? The door opened to a completely dark hallway, leading to just shadowy rooms. "Fuck," Black Star muttered before turning on the light, at least giving them a clear path.

"Is he home?" Maka for some reason felt the need to whisper as if turning on the light wasn't enough interruption.

Black Star scoffed at this before starting down the hallway, deliberate in his steps and choice of door, the last one on the right, opening it and letting a sliver of light hit a room that mostly looked like a studio. "Yo," he barked into the darkness.

Maka saw movement from the couch in the corner, a mop of stark white hair popping up over the arm. "Shit," came a mutter from the mess of hair.

"Social skills lesson number one: be fucking awake to greet your guests." Black Star flicked the wall switch, flooding the room with light.

"Shit," Soul groaned again, blinking slowly to adjust.

That was surprise number two, just the way he looked. Maka thought the white hair was abnormal enough but through his slow blinks, she caught the deep crimson of his eyes, his grimace showing off the pointy nature of his teeth. She'd heard of cosplay, but sleeping in your vampire look? Wouldn't that be uncomfortable? A strange, drifting thought crossed her mind that hadn't she seen someone like this before? But it had to just be internet scrolling.

"Sorry," Soul muttered before his eyes finally adjusted and finally fell on her. He had tried to prepare himself, sending the all-day message that she wouldn't remember him so there was no use in letting those feelings of his one, single, lame memory overwhelm him. It didn't help. She wasn't fifteen anymore, that was for sure, but those eyes were the same, brilliantly green and widely blinking at him. "Hey," he hated the lame, breathless quality to his voice.

"Hi, I'm Maka." The cheer was punctuated with her outreached hand, waving in front of Soul's face.

_See? Doesn't remember you. Not for a minute._ "Soul." He took her hand, giving it the obligatory shake.

Black Star didn't bother to watch the way that moment lingered, just squeezed past Maka to get in arm's length of Soul, popping him one of the back of the head. "Did you shower today?"

"For fuck's sake," Soul muttered, fanning out his hand at Maka. "She doesn't need to hear this."

"She shouldn't have to smell you, either." Black Star lifted Soul by the back of the collar, getting him off the couch. "Go shower. Wake yourself up. Come back ready to work."

Soul motioned at Maka again, "What about-"

"I'll wait with her, just get going." Black Star gave him a push, catapulting Soul a couple of steps forward almost out of the door.

With a sigh and plethora of curses under his breath, Soul stumbled the rest of the way out into the hallway, affording Maka only one last glance before he did.

"Sorry for that," Black Star muttered.

"It's OK." Maka couldn't stop herself from staring out the doorway into the hall, watching as Soul meandered from his bedroom across the way before heading towards the door perpendicular to them which she could only assume was the bathroom. In a minute, the shower started to run. "Is he… OK?"

"No," Black Star answered immediately and without hesitation.

"Then…?"

Black Star started around the room, turning on equipment and clearing up and random clutter. "Look, he'll get the job done. He just takes some warming up. I knew I should have come here first," the last part of that sentence had trailed off into a mutter, Black Star staring off at the couch like it still held Soul in it.

Maka hesitated, finding that her hands suddenly felt out of place, searching for a spot to grab along her arms to hold herself. "Is he OK?" she found herself repeating but the tone wasn't so much inquisitive but worried, not for herself but for that song of his that seemed to play on repeat in the back of her mind.

Black Star sighed, "It's not my business to tell and I don't suggest asking him right away. He runs scared at the first sign of attention. I will say, well, that I guess he's better, he's trying or whatever. Just…" Maka was surprised by the sudden drilling of Black Star's eyes, the apprehension that gripped a face that normally held onto a firm blissful ignorance. "Give him a chance, OK? I know today was weird, and he'll probably keep doing one thing or another that isn't completely normal but give him a shot."

"Of course," Maka smiled softly, trying to dissolve the look on Black Star's face.

"The last year…" Black Star still couldn't give in to her smile, the fearful memory pulling at the back of his mind. "It wasn't good for him. Too much happened and he didn't handle it so well. You of all people should get that."

"Yeah," Maka's voice warbled in reply. "You… you didn't tell him about that, did you? About me?"

Black Star shook his head quickly, using the momentum to shake the worry from his face. "Again, not my business to tell. What you tell him and what he tells you are your business. I told him you needed a fresh start. So does he. That's the only reason I did any of this." _Not true,_ the back of his mind muttered. _You want another safety net for him._

"A fresh start," Maka eased out of her lips. "I can do that."

"Knew you could." Black Star took one last look around the room, throwing up his hands. "OK, I'm out then. He'll get out of the shower and hopefully be a person again."

"He's in the shower!" Maka stuttered out.

"Don't worry, he'll never come out naked," Black Star laughed, "Full dressed or I owe you a hundred bucks."

Maka's eyes narrowed quizzically as she shook her head, "That's not what I mean, he's-"

"Here," Soul interrupted. Black Star could keep his money, Soul dressed head to toe and the only hint he'd even touched the water the saturation of his hair, making it hang limply around his face for once. "You ready?"

"If you are," Maka offered.

"Alright, I'm out." Black Star tried to squeeze past Soul, losing momentum as Soul grasped at his shoulder. "You can be alone with someone," he smirked as he raised his eyebrows.

Soul hesitated, looking at Maka and then back at Black Star. "Whatever." The stop turned to a push, sending Black Star into the hallway.

Black Star made it all the way to the end of the hallway, fingers gripping the knob before throwing a glance over his shoulder. Soul was still stationary, staring at the blue-haired boy. "Don't act stupid."


	2. Give and Take by CHAI, ph-1

I have a huge chunk of the middle of this story written, but it seems to be slow going for me to flesh out the beginning. Please be patient.

* * *

Soul was sure he was still asleep, that this was just some strange fever-dream with Maka as a star. It was normal. Too fucking normal because she should be nervous in a weird guy's apartment. She should be disgusted with the fact that his buddy had to tell him to shower, to get himself together in the basic function's type of way. She should have been trying to get herself out of there as quickly as possible because he must look like a fucking serial murderer.

Instead, Maka was flipping calmly through his record collection, the box between her legs that were splayed out on the floor while he played out a section of music he'd created. No words obviously since he wasn't exactly skilled at capturing the female psyche in song form, but it was a start, a melody that kind of sounded like her, or what his delusional mind thought she was. He'd played the regular twenty questions with her and got answers that only minutely plugged gaping holes of information. She excelled at making answers that didn't really answer anything, so he was using his memory of that 15 year old girl on the piano bench.

"I like it!" She chimed enthusiastically as she rested her elbows on the edge of his record crate, leaning into it. "Lyrics?"

Soul wondered if that was bullshit, liking it since the tune would be better as a guitar piece than piano. The desk chair creaked as Soul eased back in it. "Depends. What's your usual topic?"

"In love or heartbroken is what sells," she huffed.

"Not what I asked," Soul muttered and tried to look annoyed even though he wanted to smile at the honesty of her answer. "What do you write?"

"Oh, me?" There it was again, the build-up to deflection. "I mean, I write but I don't ever sing it. Like I said, it's not exactly what would sell."

"Bring it next time." It was a blank order and to keep his nerve he had to swivel the chair back to the piano. He waited for an argument but didn't get one, making the anxiety creep even further up his spine. Again, too normal, too easy. Where was the push back? The primadonna primping? If she was this easy why did she have no one left to work with? "For now, in love?"

"What?" She caught herself with a breath because she was sure she had been about to blush until her mind worked through the words.

"I'm guessing 'in love' is closer to your style." He was forcing the '_I'm too tired for this'_ tone, the fight giving an odd warble to his voice.

"Uh," and instead of the blush, the color in her face drained away. "Not that, but not heartbroken either," she murmured back, letting her face fall to the records again.

"Didn't think that was possible," Soul muttered to the keys, not daring to look her way.

Maka wished he was better at eye contact, one of those things that Black Star would probably add to the social skills list. "Why do you say that?"

"You're pretty." He made the chair creak to cover the sound of his gulp of air. _Why would you even say that? _"Pretty girls usually don't struggle with that."

"I'm not-" Maka started but stopped, trying to remind herself that taking compliments was something she was supposed to start stomaching. "Not sure I should take compliments on my aesthetic from a guy who dresses like a vampire."

It was slow, but a laugh eased from his throat making him no longer able to cover an of the amusement from the past half hour. "A vampire?" he breathed out with a second laugh, this one stronger as he turned to look at her.

Maka could swear he was laughing at her, making the rosy red come to her cheeks. "Come on, the white hair, the red contacts, the teeth!"

Soul clutched at his stomach, feeling another laugh rumbling from his gut. "Natural." He parted his still slightly damp hair, showing off the roots that were still stark white. "Natural." He pulled at his lower eyelid, moving his eye around as he did. "And natural." He tapped at one of his canines, ending the touch with a grin. "Just your run-of-the-mill recessive genes."

"No way." Maka stood up quickly, her hands coming to his hair to copy the act of parting.

"Hey!" Soul tried to bat her fingers away, the panic was less from the inspection but more from the surprise of another touch. It suddenly hit him that the only person who'd touched him in months was probably Black Star, and that was usually a punch here and there. _When was the last time I even let Mom hug me?_

His reaction didn't seem to phase her, just finished ruffling his hair before hunkering back down on the floor. "Neither of your parents look like you?"

"Blonds," Soul barely recovered enough to shrug at her. "Brown eyes. My brother-" The word hit his tongue and made it seize, a choke of air the only thing that escaped his throat.

Maka blinked, waiting for the finished sentence but finding only the empty glaze slowly coming over Soul's eyes. Black Star's warning, the caveat that he runs from attention crossed her mind. "Either way, Halloween must be pretty easy. You must have Dracula down pat."

The rest of the air eased from his lungs in a scratchy laugh. _You almost talked about him. You almost said his name. _"Dracula, right." Soul nodded his way back to the keyboard, pressing haphazardly to produce a not so beautiful sound.

"So, how about falling in love?"

"What?" Soul hit the G extra hard, his eyes blinking widely at her.

"The song. Maybe falling in love, or playing hard to get." Maka leaned on the crate again. "Play it from the top." That was the only task his brain seemed to be able to grasp, starting from the beginning of the melody. "_Sometimes you push me on purpose, you make me angry and come closer to you, sometimes I make you wait on purpose, I know how to play games too."_

Soul had purposefully not sampled her music, waiting for the inevitable moment she'd show her voice off but he wasn't actually ready for it, the smokiness, the hint of grit along with a mellow sweetness. She didn't sound like a belter and she wouldn't be hitting any Mariah Carey notes anytime soon but it was one of those voices that fed him, made of all of the things you need to feel full. It was the lyrics that rubbed him the wrong way, taking a moment to look at the strain on her face, the way the ideas were forced from her mouth rather than glided. _I don't think she does know how to play games._

"_My lip balm doesn't last, when the night is gone," _she pulled it out long and slow, exploring the sound in each word before giving up, falling silent and letting her mouth rest for a moment on her hands.

"That doesn't seem like you," he murmured just in time for his fingers to stop, to make his words enunciated clear enough that they hit Maka in the face.

_How the hell does he know?_ It was less annoyance and more an absent wonder, her mind bringing up the strange thought that maybe he could read her mind. "It's not," she shrugged. "It's what sells."

"Forget it." Soul powered down the keyboard quickly, leaning himself back in the chair and putting his hands behind his head.

"What?" The fear sprung like an icy spike from her gut. "Forget what?"

"That song," Soul sighed. "Bring your lyrics next time. We'll write something more like you." He swiveled towards her, nodding at the wall behind her. "It's probably past your bedtime anyway."

Maka followed his motion, finding herself face to face with a clock, the hands gesturing towards 1:00 AM. "Shit."

He couldn't imagine profanity from her, making that smirk crack his lips again. "Go home. We can try this again whenever."

She pulled her phone from her pocket, scrolling through and clicking a few times.

"Uh, I can… I can get you a ride if you need it," Soul grabbed his own phone, surprised he was actually considering the car service and sure Mom would give birth to kittens once she realized he used it for once.

"No," Maka shook her head absently before handing her phone to him. "I need your number."

"Oh…" Even with the logic, Soul stared at the screen for a moment, a thin layer of sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. He slowly typed in his number before handing it back to her. "Like I said, whenever."

Maka didn't want to offer him an out but felt strange that she was somehow a priority. "You don't have school or…?"

"Maybe next semester." Soul didn't like the feeling of the lie on his tongue nor did he appreciate the urge to do it. _You're not normal. You can't make yourself look normal to her._ "My calendar isn't exactly filled." He stood slowly, trying to hide the act of wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, in vain searching for a natural way to stand. "Look, you're sure I can't get you a ride?"

Maka shook her head firmly, getting up from the floor. _He is weird,_ but the realization didn't come with a sigh or another shake of her head but a smile. "No, I can walk."

"Walk?" Soul moved into the doorway, meaning to continue down the hall but blocking her instead, the idea bristling something in him. "Maka, it's late and…" _You could walk her. What a comical idea. Go ahead, offer to walk her._

"And my dad's place is only two streets over." That's when she touched him, a short, sweet hint of fingertips on his arm, a placating sweep of the hand to seal her comment.

It was the second time in the day he'd felt someone else's touch and he was far from hating it.

* * *

Why was texting him a complete ordeal? Maka couldn't figure it out, especially since the only thing she _had_ to do was text a layout of her schedule. Beyond easy. Class on Monday, Wednesday during the day, Thursday night completely booked and then working at the bookstore Friday and Saturday. _How do I break the ice, though?_ As if she needed to as if this wasn't just some business transaction. _You always do this, create expectations where there aren't any._ She nervously spun a pigtail around her finger before filling in the text box again purely with her schedule.

The buzz of the phone split a squealing scream from her lips, almost forcing her to toss the technology off the bed. She looked at the screen, blinking in confusion because he texted first. There was no way, she'd asked for his number and she hadn't given him hers… except in her first email, right? She double-checked her computer before looking back at her phone, even more bewilderment spreading in her mind.

"_Please tell me you didn't get murdered on the walk home last night."_

Maka snorted a laugh before clamping her hand over her mouth at the embarrassing sound. "_Not murdered. Want to do a late-night tonight, too?"_

The pause in return was long enough that she contemplated adding the '_or'_ and adding her original idea of a schedule but the instant she started typing again she got his "_OK."_

She glanced at the clock before typing, "_Be by at 7?"_

"_See you then."_

* * *

Soul had as much breath as an asthmatic in a cloud of cigarette smoke. "I texted her," he spoke to the room as if that made it more real than it was. This was purely because, while he knew the text had sounded like some cute joke, his mind had perseverated on the idea of her being dead in a gutter regardless of the statistical likelihood. He hated when his mind found something it couldn't let go, and without thinking he found himself pinching at the skin of his thigh. It wasn't until he texted that he felt the need go away, instead too focused on the loss of breath, on keeping up the show of being normal.

To get the offer to see her today made it worse especially since there wouldn't be Black Star to make him presentable, to act as a buffer, to ease the connection again. Stranger yet, the issue wasn't how he was going to deal with the second day of human interaction since after she had left there wasn't the usual drain and he'd spent much of the night puttering around the studio rather than passing out on the couch again. That meant that he slept much of the afternoon away, but that was becoming normal behavior for him. The issue was the excitement starting to build in his gut. Even with the fear of screwing up, something that he knew was an inevitability, it was the craving for human interaction that he didn't think he still had.

He wanted her around, reminding him of the feelings of those early days in high school when Black Star and he would aimlessly explore the world from dawn until dusk on the weekends. Soul had been certain that person didn't exist anymore, dead in that passenger seat, but it was there and she had opened the door to it whether he wanted to admit it or not.


	3. XI by Lee Hi, Code Kunst

Difficult to choose a title for this one, but the first song mentioned is Fiona Apple's _Sullen Girl_ if you're interested.

* * *

Soul was a chicken. A wimp. A complete and utter coward. He saw the notebook next to Maka, knew he'd ordered her to bring it, and knew if he probably asked her for it she would hand it over but the words stuck in his throat. In anticipation of his gutlessness, he'd written her something, the only lyrics he could, something that resembled angry heartbreak even though that's honestly not a feeling he'd ever had. The only thing close was that stupid time after they'd met, after he thought too much about meeting Maka that night at the piano that she didn't even remember.

She'd assumed the same position as last time, sprawled on the floor with another crate of his records between her knees. Her flipping through seemed to hold no real purpose, just filling the time he was taking to turn on each and every mechanism, something he should have done before she got there but had been too busy being nervously aware she was on her way. Soul refused to let her find him unkempt again.

He leaned back in the chair, still berating himself on the subject of his spinelessness when Maka stopped her flipping. "Look, I know you said to bring my stuff, but…"

"Uh," Soul cleared his throat, his bravery withering like a snowman on a hot day, "You don't have to. I wrote something, just in case. I mean, it's not probably what you'd like, I know I get kind of dark, but…"

"Oh." Maka was having her own internal discussion on the fortitude of her will. _Just let him read it. What are you hiding from him anyway? He'll just think you're some moody starlet, better than… _She forced that thought to remain unfinished. "Well, if, I mean, we can do your song."

"I didn't mean we _have_ to." Soul couldn't find a comfortable place for his hands, ending up clutching the arms of his chair awkwardly.

"I know." Maka took a deep breath, a long moment to reflect on the way he had tightened his shoulders, the lock his entire body seemed to be in. _He doesn't like taking charge. Granted, he told me to bring it, but asking for it seems almost painful to him._ "Why don't we swap?"

"Oh, I don't sing," Soul laughed tightly as his head shook.

Maka smiled before turning to pick up her notebook, opening it to the only song she was even remotely alright with showing him. "I mean you read mine, I read yours. We talk about it. We pick."

"Oh," he sighed at his own stupidity until she smiled a little wider, motioning the book towards him. His hands moved through the pile of papers on his desk, taking a quick glance to make sure it was the right one. They switched and Soul's first reaction was to the handwriting, neat and curvy, almost just as much art on the page as the writing itself. "_Sullen girl_," he murmured the name at the top of the page.

Maka's face instantly lit up red, her fingers trying to cover the color in her cheeks. "Read it to yourself," she muttered back, trying to hide her face behind the paper instead, but finding both ineffectual for the embarrassment.

A laugh threatened at his lips but he kept it to himself, the amusing idea that maybe someone was just as dark as he was crossing his mind. _Don't be crazy. She's probably little-miss-perfect_. With that thought, he finally brought himself to focus on more than just the handwriting. It didn't compare to his level of gloom, but it lived up to its name, especially biting at him by verse two with the jarringly vague "_... and he took my pearl, and left an empty shell of me."_ He had asked for a representation of her and if this was it, who was she? Because he didn't necessarily think his first assumption was wrong, she was perfect, but there was something else there like there were two faces framed by the honey hair.

At that moment, Maka was doing something close to the same, looking over the words on the page and trying to transcribe them over the man sitting in front of her. "_Love disgusts me like your cigarette smoke, hated how you blew it out so casually. Love is like a pack of cigarettes, yeah, it kills me but fuck that I need you right now. Bittersweet o love, every love is bittersweet."_ She reminded herself that this was written for her not necessarily an indictment of all the loves he left behind but his answer to her claim that she wasn't in love or heartbroken. _So, bitter? Is that what I am?_ It was still a damn good song, though, and one that she could sing and might complement what she could do with her voice.

Soul looked up to find her staring, waiting on him, but he wasn't exactly the type to go first, his mouth refusing until she gaped hers and closed it again. With the thought that they were about to sit in silence again, both chimed at the same time with, "I like it." A hint of nervous laughter trailed at the end.

"It seems sad," Soul clarified. "Pretty poetic, too. Not straightforward."

"Hence it won't sell," Maka sighed. "But yours will."

Soul let his eyes drift back to the keyboard as the dark little voice whispered to him, _Make the easy song. Get her in, get her out, get her gone._ He wanted to crack his skull open and pick that little piece of black ooze from his brain, or at least he wished the drugs they gave him would do whatever the chemical equivalent of that was. "We do both," he muttered, hearing the defiance in his own voice as if he expected to be telling off that murky side of him.

Maka's hands launched up innocently. "I only need one, really, and even that's asking for a lot. I mean, you don't _know_ me."

"Black Star vouched for you." For an eerie second, he heard his old self again, that coolness, the nonchalant yet playful disregard. "And, like I said, my calendar's empty. You're it for me right now."

"Why?" Maka knew the instant the question left her lips she shouldn't have asked it, watching as a hint of panic glazed over what had been a pretty cool gaze. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

"I was sick." _What the _fuck _are you doing? _His hand gripped tightly into the arms of the chair. "So, I… I'm just getting back in the business. I'm lucky Black Star could give me something to do, honestly."

She could see it was the tenuous truth, his hold on his words as strained as the line of the smile he was trying to hold on to. "Are you at least feeling better?"

Something different stirred in his chest, not that dark thing that ate at him but something fed by the warmth in her voice. That question got asked in a million and ten different ways, by doctors, by his mother, by everyone in between but this one came without the nervous smile, only the built-in hope that the answer was yes. "I'm OK." Not really the truth, not really a lie, the closest thing to the limbo he was living in.

"Well," Maka grinned, "Then we'll do two, but only if you keep feeling good! If something happens, you ditch me immediately, got it?"

"Yeah," Soul managed a laugh but he was sure that was nothing more than a lie. Ditching her was never going to be an option.

* * *

How Maka even managed to sing Soul's song the way _he_ wanted almost immediately wasn't possible. He was used to giving notes, suggestions, low-key critiques, but it was like she had simply read his mind as she read the lyrics off the page. But there was that nervous energy he got from her, the way she could produce a pretty great voice but never seemed sure of it, her eyes always plastered shut when she vocalized. A fleeting thought crossed his mind about what her eyes might look like, how that green would glow when she sang.

"Hey." She snapped him out of that daydream, the eyes he was asking for focused on him. "Are you hungry?"

He blinked in thought as if that was an SAT question, taking time and deliberation. _Have I eaten today? How much did I eat yesterday?_ Soul found himself prodding his stomach as if it would give him the answer. "I guess."

"I swear I'm not procrastinating, but can we eat?" Maka glanced at the clock. "We've worked for like three hours, anyway! We need a break."

"Uh," Soul let the vowel elongate in his throat as his eyes searched around the room. "Well, I don't usually keep a lot of food in the apartment."

"To be honest, you don't strike me as the cooking type," Maka grinned. "So we go out. There's this great Thai three blocks over. The one with the green awning, do you know the name? I always forget."

Soul felt the sweating starting, already running his palms along his pant legs. "I don't really go out much."

"Oh," Maka blinked, noticing the slow motion of his hands. "I mean, I'm pretty sure they do take out. I could go grab some and come back? Just tell me what you want."

"No, uh…" Soul forced himself to his feet. _Social skills lesson number 8: When people invite you out to eat, you leave the fucking house._ "I'll put on shoes. We'll go." He cringed at his way with words before launching himself across the hallway to his closet. Each lace felt like a Gordian knot and when he looked up she was standing in the hall, trying not to stare. _You're weird. She thinks you're weird and it's just a matter of time._

"Ready?" But her smile wasn't cheezy, more of a comfortable softness.

"Yeah," he mumbled before moving to the hallway.

"Great!" Maka didn't lose an ounce of exuberance as she walked towards the door. Soul followed, making sure to grab his keys from the hook by the door and followed her out, only pausing to lock the door behind them. "I promise, it'll definitely be worth it. And it's my treat since, really, you're probably not getting anything out of doing these songs."

"I told you, I'm lucky you're giving me something to do," Soul muttered as he jammed his hands along with his keys in his pocket. _It's only a few blocks. It's only dinner._ He tried to trail a little behind her, give her room but as soon as he slowed she did as well, making his only option for walking shoulder to shoulder. He cleared his throat, "I don't know why you need me anyway. With your dad and all…"

Maka shook her head firmly. "I live with him. That's it. Working with him would be my worst nightmare." She accented this with a particularly hard push to the door to the street, making Soul jump as the door clanged against the wall.

"I heard he could be a little…" Soul trailed off with a shrug, no bravery for toeing a dangerous line.

"A little difficult?" Maka offered. "How about conceited? Or immature? I'd even throw in a complete and total playboy."

Soul couldn't stop the whistle from his lips at the list and he almost clasped a hand to cover it, surprised by the easy reaction.

"I know," Maka shot a smile at him along with a short laugh. "He's just… not my favorite person. Hasn't been for the past five or six years."

Soul watched the pavement move past their feet, trying to feel the air around her. The conversation seemed to be moving but the rustiness of this made him apt to overthink, to hesitate. Instead, he took a deep breath and let out, "Any particular reason?"

"Other than the ones I listed?" Maka grinned again but this time he saw the strain at the corners.

"I mean, the list is pretty convincing," Soul shrugged. "But isn't that just big-time producer behavior?"

Maka rolled her eyes, "I don't know. I mean, you're technically a producer. Is that what you aspire to?"

"Difficult, depends on your definition. Immature, yeah, maybe a little, especially when Black Star's involved." Soul took another deep breath. "Conceit requires you like yourself and playboy, well, you said it yourself, with the vampire look I'm not exactly dealing with girls knocking down my door."

"You're difficult?" Maka blinked. "By what definition?"

"I thought you'd have figured that out the first day you met me." Soul started to slow, seeing the green awning, the Thai-related name that she couldn't remember emblazoned across the front. Seeing the storefront meant there was no turning back and suddenly a brick dropped into his stomach.

Maka was staring at him innocently again and he could actually imagine that she'd forgotten the whole embarrassing exchange. "You mean the shower thing?"

"Yeah," Soul choked. "Not exactly my best moment."

"Not exactly something I'd characterize as the worst either," Maka shrugged before opening the door for him, making a sweeping motion inward. "And just because you look like a vampire doesn't mean you can't be handsome. Dracula wooed all those girls, right?"

Soul was glad he was ahead of her, giving him time to hide the blush he was sure was there. He wiped at his face in vain, the words sounding strained from the effort. "I think he had special powers or something."

"Are you challenging me on vampire lore?" Maka quirked an eyebrow before laughing. "Please, don't. I'm pretty sure you could win."

"We're probably even." The smile came easy to his face, especially in the light of hers. Maka offered him a light touch to the arm before turning to the host. _See? You can be normal. _They flowed through the restaurant as the host guided them to a table. It wasn't too crowded, actual normal people probably having already eaten by this time, so Soul didn't have to deal with the overwhelming chatter or the feeling of no air in the room.

Maka settled into her seat and Soul watched her as social etiquette on display, instantly arranging her silverware and putting her napkin in her lap before sitting up straight, shoulders perfectly pressed back. He already knew the comparison was easy, his back already finding some comfortable slouch in the chair. "So you, Black Star, and Liz were all friends in high school?"

Soul blinked, momentarily having forgotten the web of connection behind them meeting and the fact that talking between eating was what you did at restaurants. "Black Star and I have been trouble since we were babies. His adoptive parents are best friends with my parents." Soul actually found himself searching his memory for specifics, not leaving hollow answers like she always seemed to do. "Liz and her younger sister, Patty, showed up around third grade. Liz is technically a year older than us, but something happened when they were younger, had shoddy school records or something so she was stuck with us."

When you're raised at parties, this kind of social blather comes easily, but even as Maka asked the question she hated it. The way that he was staring, the way he was actually answering questions without hesitation made her want to ask the real ones dancing around in her head. "Patty went out to school on the west coast, right?"

"Yeah, with her boyfriend, Kid." Soul found himself leaning back, cooly accentuating his slouch before bringing the menu into his lap to use as an excuse to break eye contact. Technically, he'd kept it since they sat down, and at least through three full sentences, a record for the week if not the month.

"So it's just Tsubaki and me that are new to the group," Maka still smiled at him even though she knew he'd miss it, eyes trained on the page.

"I like Tsubaki, though how she _dates _Black Star I'll never know," Soul chuckled softly, trying to keep the momentum. "How did you get in with Black Star and Liz?"

"Oh." This time she was thankful his eyes were away since the smile dropped lifelessly from her face. "Just, class, you know?"

Soul felt the drop in her mood as much as he heard it, his eyes glancing up to find her intent on the menu just like he'd been moments ago, her eyebrows now furrowed. _She lied. A white lie, definitely, but one that turned her off like a switch. But why does that make me want to ask her about it more?_ "Liz probably started it, didn't she? I can't imagine Black Star even paying attention in class and he said he stopped looking at girls since Tsubaki came around."

"Sort of," Maka let the words fall from her lips slowly. _Why don't you want to tell him the truth? Or at least look at him in the face and smile while you lie so he can't see right through you._ When she looked up, he was, those cool, red eyes focused on reading between the words that came off her lips. _He's going to ask, he's going to pry, he's going to know._

Soul swallowed, daring to keep her stare just an extra second. "What do you eat here?"

"What?" Maka's mind completely blanked as her panic became instantly unfounded.

"What do you like to eat here?" He clarified with an awkward finger pointing at the menu.

"Oh." Maka slipped easily into the menu description, Soul leaning forward so she could do the same, pointing from dish to dish with expert critiques. By the time the waiter came to the table Maka had taken over the whole operation, ordering for both of them a feast that Soul couldn't help but think was enough for double the people.

"Sounds like you do this a lot." Soul had no choice but to keep her eyes, the safety of his menu long gone with the waiter.

"Do what a lot?" Maka tilted her head as she finally relieved her perfect posture and leaned on her elbow to rest her chin.

"Go out," Soul sighed, "I mean, restaurants and stuff. I don't know." He trailed off into a mumble, afraid to see that light turn off in her eyes again.

"With my dad, a lot. It's not like he magically learned how to cook after the divorce," she sighed but still managed to eke out a smile. "And then with friends, yeah, of course. But you said you don't go out much?"

"I guess I'm…" Soul wanted to shrug again but felt the repetitiveness in the motion, sure he'd already done it at least eighty times today. "Since I was sick I just can't seem to get back to normal."

"Normal is overrated," Maka shrugged for him but added a lively little laugh to the tail-end of it. "Doing what you can do is good enough." She watched as he seemed to sit frozen, the only movement a slow swallow. It was like he was trying to hold everything in place like that comment threatened to break him. "What else do you need to start doing?"

"Told you, normal stuff." He was breaking, tiny little cracks, hairline weaknesses making him afraid to answer more.

"Like?" Maka offered again and only received his still strange pause. "So, showering," she held out a finger before moving to another one, "and do you exercise? I feel like that's always the first thing you give up on when you get sick."

Soul took a deep breath, trying not to give in to his will for silence. "I go when Black Star makes me. He mostly makes me lift."

"So you need cardio," Maka grinned. "Do you like running?"

"Who likes running?" Soul felt relieved by the humor, especially as it produced a giant smile on her face.

"OK, maybe not everyone's favorite, but it's good for you." Maka held her hand out, offering the next sentence as an incentive. "And you can do that as a social activity. I usually run with Tsubaki. It kills two birds with one stone."

Soul raised an eyebrow. "Can you even talk while you run?"

"That's the beauty of it!" Maka chimed. "You get to be in someone's company but don't have the hassle of keeping up your end of a conversation." Maka clasped her hands together. "Tsubaki's been trying to convince Black Star to run with her and I'm sure if you're going it's just extra incentive for him, right? And the two of you can start off slow until you're leaving us in your dust."

Soul's mouth went dry at the idea and the words faltered over his tongue. He was saved by the bell, the dinner bell that is, as their waiter started to lay plates in front of them. His fears of it being too much were confirmed, seemingly not an inch of tablecloth left. "I hope you have an extra stomach or something," Soul muttered.

"Oh, trust me, I can handle it. You just need to pull your own weight." Maka started to dig in, throwing an assortment on her plate and thankfully letting any line of conversation drop.

Soul was slow to start, watching in awe at the pile of food she had sectioned off for herself. It was the smell that finally spurred him, that spicy chili followed by whiffs of lemongrass and basil. His mind settled on the fact that he probably hadn't eaten much of anything yesterday and today had been no better, so the way his stomach churned in response wasn't the anxiety but an actual hunger. He was really hungry, really in a restaurant, and he was really starting to think that maybe she was right - normal was overrated - at least when Maka was around.


	4. Please read description (triggers ahead)

I made this chapter completely separate because I think the trigger warning here is very important. **Trigger warnings for suicide and cutting.** Seriously, don't read it if it's a danger to your own health, especially since anything here will be part of a slow discovery in the story anyway.

* * *

Black Star heard the doorbell but didn't move, the controller flexed tightly in his hand.

"I got it." Tsubaki had perfected the tone of sounding exasperated with him but loving at the same time and he caught her peeved smile as she walked past the doorway towards the front door. She appeared back in the doorway, all smiles and soft whispers to Liz as she led her in.

It wasn't until Liz's eyes fell on Black Star that her smile flattened. "What are you doing?"

"Playing _Call of Duty_," he muttered, eyes focused on the screen.

Liz stamped over to the TV and hit the power button on the console, obscuring his view of the now darkened screen. "You know that's not what I meant."

Black Star sighed, "I invited you to see him. You could have asked him then. I don't-"

"_It's not your place to tell_ is what you're going to try to bullshit me with right now." Liz sent out an accusing finger, her eyes starting to get glossy. "And I get it, you're practically the adoptive brother but I was there, too. We all had to deal with Wes's death."

Black Star's stomach lurked and his eyes hit Tsubaki. "Babe, go ahead and go back to studying."

Tsubaki crossed her arms, rotating her glare between the two of them before settling a raised eyebrow at Black Star. "Am I leaving because this is the first time I've heard of this?"

Liz threw up her hands, letting one fly in Tsubaki's direction. "You don't even tell her?"

Black Star chucked the controller next to him on the couch. "Look-"

"No, _you _look," Liz snapped. "You're well on your way to ending up just like Soul. It's not about keeping someone's secrets, it's about making sure you don't let this shit fester in your own head. If you can't trust us with it, you're just as bad as he is."

"Wow, what a guilt trip." Black Star leaned back on the couch, throwing his hand behind his head. "And teaming up on me isn't fair."

"Too bad," Tsubaki smiled softly.

He sucked his teeth, trying to find somewhere else to look since those soft indigo eyes always killed him. "If you tell him I told you, I'll murder you both."

"As if," Liz finally let out a cough of a laugh before moving the rest of the way into the room, easing herself into one of the armchairs. Tsubaki followed suit but opted to move the controller from her spot on the couch so that she was close enough to slip a hand onto Black Star's knee.

There was a quagmire in his head, a slippery slope of memories that always threatened to suck him in as soon as his best friend came up. "Well, you know what Soul was like right after we graduated, right?"

Liz was trailing back through memory lane from elementary to high school, watching as the pale boy grew with each step. "He got quiet after Wes, sure, but he graduated just fine. Even got into school with us here but he never showed."

"That's because…" Black Star couldn't tell if the spewing feeling was coming from the thoughts he was about to release or the vomit that was threatening to come with them. "I was over there all the time, right? Had free run of his house and it was summer, so I just came over as soon as it was past his usual noon wake up time. No one answered the door but it's not like that hadn't happened before so I let myself in and went up to his room just like normal, but there were so many clothes on the bed. Was the bastard moving and not telling me or…?"

He choked, feeling the bile in the back of his throat as that same old wave of rage came over him. "Instead I hear him, the crying, but it was like it was smothered. I tossed the clothes like he was fucking underneath it but that wasn't it. But the closet… the door was closed but I could hear it, the hoarse crying like he'd been screaming. So I opened it because what fucking game was he playing, right?" Black Star couldn't decide what was worse, saying the words out loud or the way Tsubaki's hand was tightening on his knee in anticipation. "The rope was still around his fucking neck but the goddamn pipe, the wooden dowel or whatever the fuck it is was snapped. The only reason I was even hearing that fucker cry was because of some shoddy piece of wood."

"He took the clothes from the closet and thought why the hell not. Thought that stupid rod would hold his weight or maybe that the motion would be fast enough to snap his fucking neck." Black Star focused on the ceiling, feeling Tsubaki move closer to him as her other hand gripping at his shirt while he could hear Liz smother a sob. "I punched him. It wasn't the right fucking thing to do but I did because _fuck_. Then I held him, called Serena, and just waited until she got home and took him to the hospital."

"Black Star…" Tsubaki started.

"Forget it!" Black Star snapped. "It's fine. It's fucking over and he spent a year in that hospital and he's never going to fucking do it again or I'm gonna… I'm fucking gonna…" The air choked out of his lungs, the rage and the suppressed tears strangling him.

Tsubaki grabbed at him, trying to negotiate with his arms that refused to fall, his eyes that resisted hers. She tugged at him enough that he relented, letting her arms wrap around him as he lifelessly bent into her. "I'm so sorry, Black Star…"

"_You_ shouldn't be sorry," he snapped before pressing his hand over his eyes, blacking out the memory with the closing of his lids. "Like I said, it's _over_, and this is where we're at now."

Liz was clearing the tears from her eyes when Black Star finally looked at her. "Did he tell you why? Explain it, or…?"

"Why?" Black Star spat. "It's the same why he's been living for almost five years: he's always going to be to blame for Wes." He paused, finally letting his eyes fall to Tsubaki's, hating the way they tore into him but loving the look anyway. He patted her cheek before forcing her back, letting her take his hand instead of his knee. "So until he fixes that one-track mind of his all I can do, _we_ can do is try to make him keep his shit together. Half the time he's still not showering or eating. He says he's stopped the cutting but I can't fucking make him strip or anything to check."

Liz rubbed away a fresh wave of tears, a shaky sigh escaping from her lips. "He was still doing that? I thought that was just the first year after Wes…"

"It was going strong until the hospital," Black Star muttered. "But I'm trying to believe him now. He said he doesn't want to do anything like that again, it's just the regular will to do stuff that he just can't seem to get back. That's why I had him take this job with Maka. He has to get back into the habit of just living his life."

Liz bit her lip, piecing together her accusation before ripping it apart again. Even though her first instinct was to bulldoze him, she could see that Black Star was as fragile as he'd ever been and as he could ever show, that lost glaze over his eyes. "Is that the only reason?"

"What?" Black Star's lips stretched into a frown.

"There's tons of singers at school," Liz couldn't stop that accusatory finger again. "Less _complicated_ singers."

"One, I resent the insinuation," Black Star deepened his frown to almost comical proportions. "And two, what a friend, saying Maka is _complicated._" He tried his best to mimic her tone since he knew there was no hope for air quotes, Tsubaki almost painfully clutching his hand.

"I would say adopting her after finding her _vulnerable_ at one too many parties definitely falls under _complicated_," Liz sighed. "But, seriously, Maka?"

"All I'm hearing is that you have something against Maka. Jealous another blond is moving in on your territory? Were you hoping Soul was still harboring that crush?" Black Star raised an eyebrow, relieved with the change in subject, the ability to cram all that under the rug again.

"Ew, that was like middle school, and that's only because my tits grew in first out of all the girls and both of you couldn't handle it." Liz smoothed back her hair with a faint laugh at the memory. "But you're admitting it, you're playing matchmaker, aren't you?"

Black Star shrugged, "Couldn't hurt."

Liz narrowed her eyebrows incredulously, "_Couldn't hurt_? We just got over talking about how he tried to kill himself and was in the hospital all last year and you think a girlfriend is what he needs?"

"No," Black Star blew out a huff of air. "We both know he used to move as slow as a fucking sloth when it came to getting girls when he was _normal_, so I don't exactly expect him to jump right into dating her. My bet is that's at least six months, maybe a year down the road."

"Black Star," Tsubaki sighed. "You can't just predict that kind of thing."

"I can," Black Star rolled his eyes at the lack of support in the room. "Look, Maka needs a guy whose first gut instinct isn't going to be to get into her pants. She also needs a guy who's loyal, devoted, and I can't think of anyone better at that shit than Soul."

Liz huffed as she crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair. "OK, yes, that's Maka."

"And our little idiot," Black Star almost wished Soul was here so he could put him on display for this one. "Maka's got the biggest heart out of anybody I know, and damn does he need that. He needs someone to just love every little thing that he does, no matter how weird it is. Someone who's going to be happy with a nightly routine of take-out and movies. Just think about it, think about her and how she's wheedled her way into our hearts, into our group in less than a year and tell me that isn't exactly what he needs."

Liz took another deep breath, weighing Black Star's logic. "Yes, OK, they are compatible, exactly what the other needs, but they're both damaged as fuck," she enunciated hard on the last three words. "Who's to say they're not just going to hurt each other before they realize that?"

"That's why we're going to split the responsibility," Black Star grinned. "I keep Soul of track and you work with Maka. If we can get them just to be honest with each other…"

"Oh, hell no," Liz waved a finger. "Absolutely not. We can't just manipulate them."

"And that's not very fair to them," Tsubaki chimed. "Honesty in a relationship has to come naturally."

"It will be natural," Black Star griped. "Just a little encouraged."

Liz shook her head, "I refuse."

"You can't," Black Star groaned. "I need us both working on this. Maka would never listen to me about girl stuff."

"Girl stuff," Liz snorted. "And still, the answer is no."

"OK, but listen to this, and I swear if this doesn't convince you then fucking fine." Black Star reached into his pocket, taking out his phone and scrolling back to yesterday's messages with Soul. "Maka got him to leave the house, go to a restaurant, not fucking take-out, a sit-down, populated by other people restaurant, and eat an entire meal. And I'm quoting him now, '_It didn't suck'_ and '_She's starting to sound like you - adding social skills to the list'_ and my fucking favorite '_I guess I can talk to another human being without sounding like a fucking spaz.'_" Black Star tossed the phone in Liz's direction, watching as she faltered to catch it but then scrolled for confirmation. "Remember, the last year of high school this is the dude that barely graduated because of his absences and only hung with us if we were in the house."

"Yeah," Liz mumbled weakly, continuing to scroll. Inserted in the regular guy-to-guy conversation was the mentions of Maka, her name popping up more than once a day. None of it outright fawning, but simply the indication that since the moment they had met, Soul and Maka had stuck together. "Fuck," Liz sighed as she plopped the phone onto the coffee table between them. "Alright. I've got Maka."


	5. Wake Up by Crush, Dean

Again, we have dueling songs. The first song is "Winter Blossom" by punchnello feat. SAAY. Second is the title song. We're only inching closer to secrets in this one.

* * *

The minute Maka walked in Soul knew everything was wrong. That face was familiar, he'd seen it in the mirror on some of the terrifying days were ripping into himself was the only thing to even out the rage. "Hey," he tried to produce the normalcy they'd fallen into but in many ways, he was waiting to be the brunt of her anger.

Even with that in her eyes, her voice came softly, "Hi." But that was it, the full extent she offered him, just enough to make him feel the crawl of little legs under his skin.

He brought her back silently, turning on the equipment as if to get right down to work, something that they rarely did at this point. Maka was as much a talker as a singer and she usually filled the first hour or two with chatter rather than melody. Instead of her regular spot on the floor, Maka sat down on the couch as her fingers instantly came to play at the fabric, raking it with her nail. The sound and the moment was making his grip on sanity tenuous, but instead of sitting in his usual chair and letting himself turn from her and ignore the strangling silence, he sat next to her on the couch. "Let's go out."

"What?" She murmured, her finger stopping its current revolution.

"I forgot to go shopping today," he shrugged. "And I think I'm in that kind of mood where I don't want real dinner. Just snacks and shit but I don't think I have any of that."

"I'm taking you grocery shopping?" A faint ghost of a smile touched her lips.

Seeing that was enough to let a grin pull at the corners of his mouth. "Need to do the normal stuff, right?"

"Normal's overrated," now there was a smile parting her lips. "But, sure, let's go."

"OK, just… give me a second." He stood up and walked into the other room, taking his cellphone out in the process. As he closed the door of his bedroom behind him, Soul scrolled to the car service contact, waiting for the ring and the receptionist to pick up. "Yeah, Soul Evans. I need a car. The apartment address should be on file." There was no need for hold music, the receptionist quickly confirming his request. He cleared his throat, "Uh, please tell the driver not to use my name. They like to do the Mr. Evans thing and, well, it's unnecessary." Even that strange request got the charming customer service grade approval.

Soul opened the door to find her waiting in the doorway of the other, arms hugged around herself. "Do you need me to get us a ride? We could call Black Star or…?"

"I got it." Soul, for once, was able to stop the flow of words, not instantly announcing another little secret about himself. "Just have to wait 10 minutes."

"Well, do you know what you need?" Without waiting for his answer Maka started her way down the hallway and into the kitchen. It was beyond sparse, just a lonely microwave and coffee maker sitting on the counter with no clutter of other appliances. His stove looked pristine and while Soul wasn't exactly the messy type, she was sure this was more due to disuse than cleanliness. "Do you actually even eat?" Maka threw the question over her shoulder but was surprised to find him right there, half a smile on his face.

Soul stopped short, stepping back to give her a little more room in the turn. He still wasn't exactly used to the proximity, the way she didn't necessarily get the idea of personal space. Black Star wasn't exactly big on it either, but Black Star was, well, someone else entirely. "It's about the same as showering."

"Soul," she punctuated with a withering sigh. "At this rate, you're going to waste away." Maka started rummaging through cabinets, faced with famine in just about each one. "How are you supposed to not get sick again if you're not eating?"

_How can she still think it's coughing, sneezing, runny nose sick? _"I guess I just don't know how," the lie felt slimy on his tongue. "And it's just me."

"Yeah…" Maka finished her mental inventory, basically checking every staple off in her head. "Why do you live by yourself?" She froze mid-swing with the cabinet door, not daring to look at him. Not asking those questions was always supposed to be her prerogative, Black Star's warning blaring in her head every time she toed the line. _But when will it be OK to ask? When should I expect him to trust me?_ A derisive laugh almost split her lips. _Why should you expect him to trust you? What do you do other than lie and hide?_

"I, uh…" Soul clenched his hands against the side of the counter. _I couldn't look at my parents anymore. Seeing them every day was killing me because I don't deserve to be the one they see._ His throat constricted, warning that the tears were coming and he had to shoot his hand to his leg, pinching at the skin of his thigh until the prickly pain forced it away. "I don't think I'm my parent's favorite person right now."

Stealing her phrase from her mouth made her turn to him, her eyes trying to catch every last nuance. "Probably not because you're a conceited, immature playboy."

"No." Soul's smile looked more like gritting his teeth. "It's more being difficult." The buzz of his phone saved him from saying more, the message blaring on the screen. "Car's here."

"Well, I'll be your list." Maka tried to smile but found that the now complete absence of his made hers feel hollow. Asking the question had only led to more, a million more, but if each one pained him that much she wasn't sure she could ask.

She followed his back as he moved through the apartment, out into the hallway as he only paused to lock the door, and then down the stairwell to the street. When they got to the street, nothing made sense anymore. A sleek, black town car waited for them, the kind with tinted windows that she'd only ever been in when her father took her to parties. Her mind went back to the apartment, completely plain, not cheap but definitely not the opulent penthouse, not even classy enough to have a doorman. In the conglomeration of things that were Soul, this seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. Soul didn't hesitate, he just opened the door and waved her in.

"Hello, miss, sir," the driver nodded, Soul thanking every possible deity for his terseness.

"Hello," Maka chimed.

"Hey, Fresh Mart, please." Soul leaned forward his face obscuring the partition from Maka while he moved his hand with the money tucked between his two fingers. "And thanks for the sir."

The driver shrugged and took the money from his hand, slipping it into the pocket of his blazer.

Soul eased back into the seat, trying not to catch Maka's glances. _What are you going to say if she asks you to explain this? _He'd already spilled part of the worst thing he could imagine - news about his parents - and now he was on the cusp of letting go of even more. **_Fuck_** _her questions, seriously, you don't have to answer to her and you shouldn't_, that dark little voice seemed to hiss.

It was her soft hand on his arm that instantly silenced that screaming creature in his head. When he turned to face her she was smiling, a distinctive inquisitiveness on her face. "What do you like to eat?"

"Food," Soul offered breathlessly until she took away her fingertips from his skin.

Maka laughed something that she was sure she wouldn't do at all today before settling her arms back around herself. "Smartass."

Soul caught himself before sighing, a relief in the absence of more pressing questions. "Simple, mostly. I don't cook. Salads, sandwiches, stuff you can just throw together. Instant or usually just snacks. My mom calls it toddler eating. Nuts, fruit, vegetables. Finger food."

"Toddler eating?" Maka almost snickered. "How have you not learned to cook?"

_Well, between the cook at home and then preferring to be dead I've kind of not given a shit about that._ Instead, he offered a shrug. "Didn't. You think that's something I have to learn?"

"Duh," Maka laughed back. "Let's do that tonight. Cook. I'll show you how to make something easy."

"I thought we'd just binge on ice cream and Doritos," he sighed.

Maka pressed a thoughtful finger to her chin. "Maybe tomorrow. That'll be your reward if you put your effort into tonight."

He tried to force another sigh saturated in annoyance. In his head, it felt kind of dreamy, this surreal pattern of her planning their day to day. A few weeks ago he barely saw Black Star, only giving him the green light to come over to the apartment if he was feeling close to functioning. Not that Black Star listened much either since he came when he pleased no matter the answer Soul gave, but for the most part it was restricted. Thursday through Saturday Maka disappeared, but Monday through Wednesday was becoming a pattern.

Maka let it be quiet, watching as Soul drifted back into himself, at least this time a soft smile gracing his features. She took that time to remember how she'd felt when she arrived today at his apartment, the seething anger, the utter distress that in a matter of maybe fifteen minutes had dissipated to background chatter. There was no way for the taint not to reach this moment, though, and her mind gripped at the only thing it could. _He's good at playing the game. He's good at caring enough to get you to care._ _He disarms you with this damaged boy act and then he'll-_

"Come on." Soul had almost had to nudge her, Maka so far gone in her thoughts that he was afraid his words wouldn't even reach her. He opened the door instead, his voice and the creak enough to jolt her awake. She followed quietly, still sunken in somewhere far away from him as he exited the car and moved towards the sliding front doors of the grocery store. "Cart?"

"Yeah," she murmured.

Soul grabbed a cart as she idly stood by, only starting movement as he began pulling away towards the aisles. "What's the easy thing we're making tonight?"

"Well…" Maka hesitated, using the time to run her fingers through her hair. "Do you have pots?"

"Uh, yeah, I think."

Maka displayed a little under a foot of space between her hands. "Like the tall soup pot?"

"Yes?" Soul frowned in thought, trying to remember the array his mother had tucked away in the shelves a couple of months ago.

"Oh, boy." She rolled her eyes for added effect. "Let's play it safe and make pasta."

"Like spaghetti?"

Maka was already grabbing things off shelves, arranged them in the cart without a second's approval from Soul. "A little fancier than that."

He leaned into over the handle of the cart, eyeing each thing with as much interest as he could muster. "Doesn't fancier mean harder?"

"You're a big boy. You'll catch on." With that last vote of confidence, Maka fell into shopping mode, only offering tidbits of conversation if the item warranted it. But she watched with slowly building concern as his battery started to drain, his fingers starting to tap nervously again the handle, more forced deep breaths breaking his lips. "You OK?"

"Huh?" Soul had been focused on this last leg to the checkout, dying to be back home. Maka mimicked his tapping in reply and Soul sighed. "I usually just come in and out, headphones the whole time."

"Oh!" Maka started to dig through her bag as the pulled into the longest line in the history of grocery stores. She produced her headphones and before he could get a word in, plugged one side in his ear, putting its partner in her own. "What do you want to listen to?" She leaned a little closer, practically shoulder to shoulder as she opened up her music app.

Soul adjusted the earbud, her closeness and the strange touch making his stomach tighten. "Play me something you like."

Maka felt the urge to laugh again but held onto it. "Oh, no, really, you'll hate it."

"Maybe," Soul shrugged.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Maka scrolled to the usual trying-to-relieve-a-bad-day playlist, not to be confused with wallowing-in-a-bad-day playlist, and clicked on one of her top ten. She could already feel the heat in her cheeks, but at the very least she was sure this could get a laugh out of him, forcing him to forget the anxiety.

"Seriously?" Soul almost pulled a muscle rolling his eyes. "Is this that boy band stuff?"

"_A_ boy band, yes," Maka feigned indignant. "On a list of mostly boy band stuff…"

"_This_ is what you like?" Soul couldn't stop the cringe.

"Hey, Mr. Judgemental. It's super popular for a reason," Maka shot back. "Plus, it's cute, mostly romantic."

"There's better romantic songs," Soul sighed emphatically.

"Oh? You have a solid list of romance songs you pine over?" Maka nudged her shoulder to his, watching as all of him tightened momentarily. "OK, show me then." She handed the phone over to them as the line moved forward slightly.

Soul hit the search bar, typing in quickly as the man rapping filled Maka's ears. "_... I think I'm going to screw this up, hold me not to leave me now. In my heart, you know this feels like a different level."_

Maka frowned at him, "This is romantic?"

"He loves her so much he's scared," he murmured. "Just wait, her part's coming up."

"_It's OK, you and I here. The world we're living in is different from other places. So you can comfortably come into my arms or lean on me."_

"It's still sad," Maka sighed. "Pick a happy one or it's back to boy bands."

A high threat as far as Soul was concerned but _happy_? When was the last time he actually played something without that dark tone in the background? He had to wrack his brain but finally clicked the search by the time Maka was placing some of their things on the belt. Soul hit play and took the earbud out of his ear and gently placed it in hers, closing her into the music as he took over her job. Maka took a step back, arms wrapping around herself again.

It started light, the birds chirping and a cooing voice telling her to wake up. "_Sometimes it's a little bit of a hassle on the way to work in a cold city. I'll be your strength."_

A second voice, a little more throaty continued the sentiment. "_A cup of morning coffee and our song. I'm saying it's going to be OK. Hold on tight, look at my eyes, to keep the rough waves quiet."_

Soul had hit the mark, not sad but maybe less happy and more content. A kind of love that existed when you woke up naturally tangled in the sheets, not caring about the bedhead or the morning breath, just enjoying each other's warmth. _Is that the kind of love he wants?_ She watched him as he continued to unload, not sparing her a glance but his motions not tainted by the agony from before.

Maka took the headphones out her ears and realized suddenly, with a skipping beat of her heart, that he was humming the song to himself, keeping time with the music she'd just taken out of her ears. She put the phone back in her bag before squeezing past him to pick up the slack by starting to bag the groceries. Even after being caught he strangely didn't stop humming since it was the best he could do, not a crooner like either of the men singing the song. "Did that one work?"

"That was beautiful," Maka tried to whisper only to him as she leaned to put a bag back in the now completely emptied cart. "But it kind of sounded like a boy band."

"It's R&B!" Soul corrected.

"With two guys," Maka laughed. "That's like one person away from being a boy band."

Soul sucked his teeth before losing the sound to a laugh. Just for an infinitesimal second, he let the idea float into his head that somehow he had done something right. In all the millions of wrongs and awkward moments over the past couple of months, no, the past year, he'd done almost every last minute of this trip right. Even with the anxiety, the quirks and twitches, he'd managed to make her laugh, to maybe even come close to forgetting whatever had clouded her senses.

* * *

Maka had more made dinner than taught him, but Soul had been hawkish in his watching, seated or closer to perched on the island in the kitchen the entire time. After that, he'd told her to pick a movie, any mention of the song project completely lost in an easy evening around the apartment. They shared the couch but Soul had taken one end, sitting up as straight as she'd ever seen him as he set his feet on the coffee table. Maka had curled on the other end, bringing her feet up between them. It wasn't too long before the food, the hour, and the effort of holding onto her anger caught up to Maka, her eyes drifting closed.

This birthed a new panic for Soul, placed in a situation that was completely novel. Options raced through his head as he got to his feet. He walked halfway into the hallway and then moved back, tentatively reaching for her before going back to the original plan and moving to the bedroom to grab the quilt. He hesitated when he returned to her, hands making the blanket hover like he was practicing come ghost impression before finally relenting and laying it over her. With the motion her eyes shot open, a small gasp coming from her throat as she almost tore at the blanket.

"Sorry," Soul muttered as he raised his hands in innocence. "It's late. You fell asleep. I, uh…"

"A blanket," Maka sighed out as she relinquished the tight hold she had on the fabric. "I should… I guess I should go." Her movements were sluggish as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to keep the tears that instantly shot to her eyes at bay. _Go where?_

That face was back, the one she'd came with, and Soul felt his stomach lurch. "You can stay." A small panicked scream wanted to follow it but he tamed it into a quick breath.

Maka's eyes fell to her fingers as she clenched the fabric tighter. "I… I shouldn't. I didn't mean to…"

"It's not a big deal," Soul murmured. "And you can have the bed. I don't… I never sleep there anyway."

"But you…" Maka's sigh shook like a sapling in the wind.

"It's OK." Soul moved tentatively towards the hallway, trying to force out any more arguments. "Do you need stuff to sleep in? A toothbrush?"

"I have it," she answered quickly. Even in the low light, she could see the surprise on his face and for a second the mask that she loved to wear slipped out of place. "I'm used to not sleeping at home."

Soul waited for anything more to that sentence, holding his breath and his hope. After enough silence he started down the hallway, making sure to call over his shoulder. "I'll change the sheets."

Maka blamed the stiffness in her joints on the couch as she inched towards standing. She grabbed her bag from the floor where she'd left it and started the walk towards the bathroom. There was a momentary glimpse of him as she passed the bedroom, seeing him doing just as promised before she made her way to the sink. Maka rummaged through her bag and got out her toothbrush, stealing some of his toothpaste and going about the only part of her bedtime routine she had the strength for.

By the time she was done, she found him leaning against the wall in the hallway, his eyes focused on his hands that motioned towards the bedroom. "If you need anything else, let me know."

It sounded strange, formal and stiff and so unlike him. "Yeah." She wavered, hesitating in front of him before turning into the bedroom and slowly closing the door behind her. If the kitchen was sparse, the bedroom was barren. It was devoid of personality, every piece of furniture simply there as function. Even a hotel room had more character. Even so, as she eased between the sheets she only found comfort, a nice thread count and a crisp floral scent. Maka knew she should change but the urge to do so left her as some of that old fear gripped her, washed over her like waves at high tide.

She lay like that for at least an hour, dread crushing on top of suspicion. He'd seen a small corner of it, but Soul would never be able to identify it. The way that blanket touched her and she could only awake with the thought that it was him on top of her. Or how now as she laid in the bed it wasn't with any hope of sleeping but instead filled with that constant anticipation. _He's going to come through that door. He's going to slip out of that act just like he'll slip out of his clothes and… _and she held her breath through each creak.

There were soft hints of movement and as the minutes ticked away to hours Maka found herself sitting up, still attentive but balking as her nightmares started to lose traction. At 3 AM she managed to finally change into the emergency t-shirt and shorts she carried, watching the doorknob carefully during the transition from naked to clothed. _He was too good today. Everything about it was too good, too caring, a perfect show for me._ But the hallway between them was still silent and she could only hear him now if she pressed against the door.

It took another fifteen minutes of her plastered there until she opened it, slinking across the hallway to catch him sitting at his keyboard, headphones plugged in as he stroked over the keys. Maka was about to reach for him when Soul stopped, head slowly turning enough to catch her in his periphery. He jerked in surprise, flipping his headphones into his lap in the process. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"You're not sleeping?"

"I, uh… mostly can't." He finished lamely, noticing how the despair had grown on her face and that there was no tiredness there. _You're risking everything. Trying to take care of her, inviting her to stay, so just do it. _"You… you want to talk about why you're mad?"

Maka felt the floor wobble beneath her feet and she lost her stomach on the rollercoaster swirl of his statement. "If you tell me the truth about something."

Soul blinked up at her before preemptively worrying, throwing a hand through his hair. "I'll try."

"Why did you… Why didn't you just ignore it?"

Soul's swallow felt dry, his throat barely wanting to scratch back an answer. "Because… you're my friend."

_Friends_. Maka took a tight grip on her elbows, squeezing herself together. "My dad. I still let it get to me, every time he brings a girl home and I see her or a trace of her and heaven forbid he makes me fucking meet her." _That's enough, you gave him an inch, don't give a mile. _She took a trembling breath, feeling the heat coming to her face. "When they're there I can't sleep there. I think about him with all the other hers and I get sick."

Soul waited, his mind screaming that it must run deeper than that, that she had some kind of fear today as well. It was something that would probably be well hidden from any normal person but since Soul excelled at living a lie he found it easier to find it in others. "When that happens, stay here," the conviction in that seemed to surprise them both.

She had a million arguments but the tears drowned them out, one hand coming from her firm hold on herself to press against her face, trying to hide the flow and the gasping for air. Soul stood, carefully placing his headphones on the keyboard before hitting the roadblock of touching her. Black Star would scream social skills there as etiquette implied that this was the place where you hugged in order to comfort. But while she exuded a lack of personal space, it always seemed outwardly directed to him, never pulling someone to her. It seemed like a strange mixed message and along with his own anxieties, the best he could do was reaching out a slow, shaky hand that he placed on her head.

He used it to smooth her hair until her tears seemed to abate, her eyes settling on the motion before moving to search his face. "I'm trouble," she murmured.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Right now, maybe I think you're more tired than anything else." Soul brought his hand back, trying not to think of the way her hair felt. "So you should go back to bed since you don't seem to want to say more than that, do you?" How he actually let an accusation fall from his lips he'd never know.

"No." Maka traced his body language, almost as closed as her own besides the soft hand that had strangely pressed back her hair in a motion that probably hadn't happened to her since her mother. Suddenly the question sprung to her lips and she barely had the ability to suppress it. _Who are you? What kind of person are you?_

"Go to bed," he urged again before turning back to his chair. Soul only listened to her hesitation, her feet unmoving on the floor until he eased himself into sitting. As soon as he was back at the keyboard she was padding back across the hallway, the sound of the door clicking closing behind her the last thing he heard before slipping on his headphones again. _She's trouble_, he repeated her claim, rolling it around in his mind before throwing it in the trash. _Maybe troubled_, he offered but that didn't stick either. Instead, he tried to focus on the fact that she had said something, just showing off a tiny corner of what she hid, but something nonetheless. If she could let go, how long would it be before he had to give away pieces of his own?


	6. Winter by SAAY, Woo Won Jae

I'm sorry that this is my current obsession and I can't seem to write anything else. There are no songs mentioned in this one, so I picked something close thematically.

* * *

Maka slowly sat up in bed, alone but still warm and content, the sun making warming zigzag patterns across the blankets. She listened for him but heard nothing so she eased herself out of the bed and moved to the door. He'd left the studio door open and as she peeked from the hallway she saw him sprawled on the couch, eyes shut tight with lips pulled in a thin line. It looked more like he was thinking through a Calculus problem than resting and the urge hit her to wake him, to save him from whatever it was.

Instead, she pushed herself to the kitchen, started the lonely coffee maker and stood back, watching it drip into the pot. Each bead of liquid brought a new thought. _You still want to be scared of him._ Drip. _He had all the opportunity he needed last night._ Drip. _You're insane, pretending that they're all the same._ Drip. _He called you his friend and he patted your hair_. The last one brought a goofy smile to her lips, a breathy laugh. The way he'd acted had been so intensely innocent and she honestly couldn't think of a better way for him to act, and the frightening thought ran through her mind that it was as if he could read her movements and know what she needed.

She waited long enough for two cups worth of liquid and then poured it, bringing the steaming cups back to the studio. He was still stiffly laying there, a sight Maka couldn't help but loathe, the way he looked as if sleep wasn't a restful action. "Soul," she cooed as she knelt next to him, careful not to spill the coffee everywhere. No matter the gentleness of her voice he still startled away, elbows instantly underneath him to balance. That's when she noticed the sweat on his brow, the blood pumping in his neck. "Hey, are you OK?"

"Yeah," he croaked, trying to shake off the agony. It was always the same thing. Always.

"I made coffee," she offered weakly, still watching as his body was coming down, fighting off whatever sleep had brought him.

"Thanks." Soul pushed the rest of the way up to sitting, taking the cup from her hands. "You sleep OK?"

"Fine." Maka put her coffee cup next to her, sliding her legs out from underneath her so her bottom hit the floor. "Thank you for last night."

Those red eyes were intent on the dark liquid. "No problem."

Any of Maka's next thought was interrupted by the buzz of her phone from the next room. In all of her mental mayhem, she had completely forgotten about it, hadn't even looked at it since the grocery store and setting the songs. "Give me a second." Maka wandered across the hall, flipping through her bag until she found the device. Of course, it wasn't Spirit, who probably wasn't even home to realize she wasn't at home, but a succession of short-tempered texts from Liz.

"_Stopped by Spirit's after work. He said you left?" _Sent when she was making Soul dinner.

"_Where are you?"_ Sent as Maka was falling asleep on the couch during the movie.

"_Look, I'm worried. Seriously. Where are you?"_ Sent as Maka was being told she was a friend.

And finally, just now as she had come back to reality: "_Maka, TEXT ME BACK. Seriously."_

Maka didn't bother texting, just clicking on the contact and letting it ring, or she would have let it ring if Liz hadn't picked up the moment the call connected. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I know," Maka wanted to sound apologetic but the way Liz mothered always made her laugh. "But I'm really alright. I'm at Soul's."

"Soul? Like, our Soul? You stayed over at Soul's?"

"Yeah," Maka offered weakly.

"I'm coming to get you, right now." There was shuffling on the other end, a few tossed away curses before she continued, "I'll be there in like five minutes."

"OK…" Maka sighed, already preparing herself for the discussion she was about to have with surrogate mother number one. She hung up before any other discontent could be leveled and walked back to join Soul, finding him completely unmoved. "Sorry, Liz is going to come pick me up in a few minutes."

"Liz?" Soul blinked. "Liz is coming here?"

"Yeah, sorry," Maka added a short little laugh. "I didn't text her last night so she got worried and now I'm about to get scolded."

This finally elicited a snort of laughter from Soul. "Liz hasn't changed then."

"I guess not." Maka shuffled on her feet, giving herself the time she didn't really have. "I'm going to brush my teeth and change."

"Yeah." Soul concentrated on his coffee cup again, missing her completely as she walked out of the room to complete her tasks. He was too busy trying to help his brain catch up with all of it. _You let her sleep here. She made you coffee. Liz is coming. You'll say goodbye to her, but not for long. You gave her an open invitation. You called her a friend. That connection is there and until you ruin it… _A shaky inhale graced his lips. _Please don't ruin it._

He kept that as a mantra for the whirlwind minutes it took for Liz to ring the doorbell. Maka was still in the bathroom so Soul was left to open the door, face to face with the blaring mama-bear attitude that was Liz. There was no toning it down but thankfully her first reaction was to hug him, to pull him so tightly that he was sure his back cracked in the process. "Hi, Liz," he managed as the air squeezed out of him.

"You're such an asshole," she muttered before letting go. "But I'll yell at you about the last year later. Where's Maka?"

"In the bathroom." Soul swept a hand in that direction but watched as Liz didn't budge, her eyes examining him. "What?"

"You let her stay."

Soul raised an eyebrow tentatively. "Yes?"

Liz opened her mouth but closed it again quickly, shelving her first thought for Maka's interrogation. "That was nice of you."

"Thanks?" Soul left the skepticism in his brow. "She usually stays with you?"

"Sometimes," Liz murmured. "I guess she told you she'd used to couch hopping."

"Yeah." The question wasn't fair, and Soul felt the guilt as he uttered it. "Do you know why was she scared though, about staying? Does she get that way with you?"

Liz tightened her lips in a frown but she quickly tried to wipe it away. "Staying at a strange guy's apartment is kind of scary, Soul."

Soul sucked his teeth. "No, not like that, she-" He cut himself off as he heard the door to the bathroom open.

"Hey, Liz." Maka joined the three of them, getting the same bear hug that Soul did in the process.

"I was so worried!" Liz shook at her shoulders before letting her go completely, looking between the two of them for a moment. "But I guess here was probably the safest place you could have been."

"Yeah," Maka couldn't hide the trill surprise in her voice.

"Well, let's go. I'm hungry, and you're going to treat me to breakfast for all the worry," Liz grinned before turning to Soul. "And I think you owe me a little one on one time soon, too. We have some catching up to do."

"Sure, Liz," Soul let a grin start to pull at the corner of his mouth.

Maka watched as his eyes met hers, his mouth gaping a little before clearing his throat. _This is where you hug, right?_ But she was almost sure that he didn't do that, that touching was some strange boundary for him. "I'll see you later," she murmured before settling on a soft hand to his arm, minimal but still warm fingertips trying to convey more than her words could carry.

"Yeah, later." He nodded at her before turning his gaze to Liz. "Bye, Liz."

"Bye!" She chimed before grasping onto Maka and dragging her into the hallway. It was a swift exit, spurred on by Liz's firm fingertips digging into Maka's forearm that brought them out of the building and into the car in no time. Liz pushed the key into the ignition but didn't start it, turning to Maka. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Maka sighed, running a hand through her still ragged morning hair. "He… he took care of me. Kind of like you would but… well, he was a little awkward, but it was sweet." She paused, trying to read the reaction on Liz's face but finding it just as mysterious as her understanding of last night. "What kind of person is he? He told me he'd been sick-"

"_He_ told you that?" Liz spat quickly, the concern flipping into amazement.

Maka's eyebrows narrowed. "He said that's why he was only working with me. He'd been sick for the last year, but that's about as far as he went. But… it wasn't flu sick, was it, Liz? He, well, I guess the best I could think of was he was depressed, wasn't he?"

"He…" Liz chewed at her lip. "He should tell you about that."

"So that's a yes," Maka murmured.

"Yes, but," Liz placed a soft hand on Maka's arm. "He might never tell you because that's Soul. Holds onto everything in that head of his until he bursts. To tell you the truth, he hasn't even told me all of it, and Black Star only knows because he was physically there for a lot of it. But he might tell you and if he does… I know I don't have to tell you this, but be gentle with him."

"Why would he tell me?" Maka cried incredulously. "If he didn't tell you why would he even bother with me? I mean, he said we were friends, but…" She threw up her hands before using them to clutch at herself, holding tight at the elbows. _But I want to know. I want him to tell me. I want…_

"Because it's easy with you, Maka." The comment was almost as surprising as the glowing smile on Liz's face. "You disarm people. You pull information from anyone about anything just by being you. I don't know what it is about you but most of the time it's one touch and you can know just about anyone's secrets."

Maka laughed weakly, "I don't think so, especially not with him. He's so…"

"He's working on it," Liz reminded her. "Give him some time." She bit her lip again, trying to keep in the words that were threatening to come, the urge to divulge that secret plan between her and Black Star. Liz couldn't help but suddenly feel the hopefulness of it all. Maka had come to him _on her own_. Soul had taken her in _on his own_. Even without the maybe not so ethical manipulation of best friends working in the shadows, movement on both sides was happening. Those original percentages in Liz's head were tipping. Maybe we were at a fifty percent miracle.

* * *

Black Star had been very intent on watching Tsubaki in her jogging shorts, completely missing the scene that he would have had a heart attack to see. It was Maka and Soul on the stoop of his apartment, sharing a pair of headphones and arguing over one song after another, a strange mix of one-minute samples in the search for a happy medium between their tastes. Her shoulder was pressed so tightly against him that her hair was tickling even through his t-shirt. "Purely awful," Soul complained as he grabbed the phone from her, switching the song.

It was that guttural reply from his friend that snapped Black Star out of his girlfriend related daydreaming and shot the eyes almost out of his head. Granted, Soul was moving to stand at that point, but the closeness, the way he was pulling the earbud out of her ear before helping her up, was enough to spur that swell of pride in his chest. Not to mention the fact Soul looked like he'd showered within the last twenty-four hours and he'd trimmed his hair for once, the white mop actually looking reined in for once with the help of a headband. _There's my boy,_ Black Star gave himself a second to beam before plastering the annoyance on his face. "What's the fucking deal?"

"What?" Soul grumbled as he rested the earbud that he'd stolen back from Maka over the back of his ear.

"Oh, when I tell you we're going to work out it's like I'm pulling teeth but the girls mention jogging, literally the worst activity known to man, and you jump at the chance?" Black Star sucked his teeth. "I thought I was your bro."

Soul rolled his eyes. "Trust me, it's torture no matter what." He turned his attention to Maka, giving her the same attitude treatment as Black Star. "Can we just get started?"

Maka laughed. "Well, Tsubaki and I will. Try to keep up." She playfully launched into a jog that was closer to a run, Tsubaki instantly kicking up dust after her.

"Fuck me," Soul muttered.

"You wish," Black Star laughed as he started a not so exuberant pace, watching as Soul fell into step. Soul attempted to pop his other earbud in but instantly felt the sting of Black Soul's flick against his ear. "What are you doing?"

"In two minutes, neither of us is going to be breathing well enough to talk," Soul barely got out the sentence, his own words proving true.

"Maybe you," but Black Star was already sounding a little breathy. "What's up?"

"With what?" Soul was hoping for the wheezing to start, an easy excuse to shut his mouth against the questions that were coming.

"Liz told me Maka stayed over."

"Fucking blabbermouths," Soul wanted to sigh but there wasn't enough air, just coming out as a desperate huff.

Black Star was only fairing slightly better. "So it's like that?"

"No," Soul snapped. "Pissed with her dad. She slept in the bed. Me on the couch for an hour or two."

Black Star made a thoughtful hum, sending a sideways glance at the other boy's grimace. "Still not sleeping?"

"Nightmares," Soul muttered.

Black Star gauged the distance between them and the girls, measuring the likelihood of them hearing to be pretty low, their brisk pace still going strong. "What about those sleep meds?"

"Can't." He barely had the energy to but Soul shook his head for emphasis. "Take those, sleep for twenty-four hours instead."

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing." The two settled into a silence spurred more by the working cogs in each of their brains than the loss of their breath. The girls were starting to lose their lead, either out of pity or exhaustion.

"What if I…" Soul was choking for air. "I don't think I want the meds at all."

"Bullshit," Black Star spat. "Don't start that bullshit again."

"I'm-"

"Just getting back," Black Star used what little breath he had to make that as sharp as possible, drilling into Soul. "Don't put that all on the line."

How could he describe how exhausting it was? It wasn't something a twenty-four-hour sleep could fix, the day to day strain of working through it all. The due diligence it took to make him even a modicum of normal was starting to feel like a Herculean task and watching the rest of the world live so unencumbered was strange additional cruelty. "I'm sorry," he still managed to murmur, trying to wipe away that selfish feeling.

"Fuck you," Black Star grumbled in reply. "Just… think about just now, on the stoop."

"What?"

"You were happy." Black Star had to swallow his own selfishness for a moment, that childish, seething jealousy created by a moment that wasn't between the two of them. "Really happy. Don't lie."

"OK," he conceded.

"You don't take the meds, you lose that." Black Star's voice was trembling and he tried to huff to cover it. "Five years, ten years down the road you can probably do it on your own but right now you need the boost."

"OK," another mutter of defeat.

"You tell her about Wes?"

Soul only shook his head.

"Idiot," Black Star muttered.

Soul couldn't begrudge him that. _My brother died. Wes died in a car crash. A drunk driver hit him. _That he could recite like the pledge of allegiance but it was the slimy truth that lingered in the corner of each of those statements that trapped them in his throat.

"Tell her," Black Star urged.

Soul still shook his head. "Why?"

"That's what friends do," Black Star smiled crookedly at him. "Share the pain."


	7. It's You by Sam Kim, ZICO

Black Star was flipping aimlessly through his phone when he heard the front door open. "Hey, Liz," he called without bothering to look up.

"Just you?" She peeked her head through the doorway, swinging the takeout in her hand.

"He's in the shower." Black Star sniffed, catching the waft of delicious air she was sending his way and turned his head, eyeing the assortment of containers through the plastic.

Liz sighed as she placed the bag on the coffee table. "I thought you said he was getting better about that."

"He is," Black Star raised his eyebrows. "He was actually in there when I got here."

She settled into the couch and put her feet up next to the bag before revolving between a smile and a frown. "Anything to report?"

Black Star snickered, "Nothing new, just steady. They go out to eat sometimes. She's kind of teaching him to cook."

Liz rolled her eyes, "If he actually becomes capable in that regard I'll lick the bottom of my shoe."

"Get ready to taste some sole, then," Black Star cracked himself up. "But I'm pretty sure, even with all the dating that's not dating, neither of them is saying _shit_ to each other."

"Well…" Liz rolled her shoulders, trying to relive conversation with Maka in her head. "I guess I told her to be receptive, but I never pushed her to tell him the truth. Not that I think Soul is going to flip, but, some guys have an ego about that sort of thing."

"When's the last time Soul's had an ego?" Black Star grimaced. "Plus, we both know that shit's a well-known rumor at school at this point and if he goes there next semester-"

Liz couldn't settle on the frown anymore, a pleased smile parting her lips. "He's coming to school?"

"Maybe," Black Star corrected. "He's thinking about it. Not that me or Serena have left him alone about the subject."

"Add me to the list now," Liz beamed. "He has to go - it'll be so good for him."

"Until the wrong somebody sees him with Maka." Black Star tossed his phone into the cushions before crossing his arms.

"They still have time," Liz urged. "It's still a few months of talking and figuring each other out. Remember, you and Tsubaki took some time getting to know each other."

"That's because I'm a fucking god," Black Star laughed. "Of course she struggled to approach me."

"And kind of a skirt-chaser," Liz muttered as an addition, getting a glare from Black Star. "Plus, he actually told her he was sick. That's huge right there. But he's going to take baby steps, we both know that."

The bathroom door clicked open and both of them shut their mouths, waiting for the man of the house to finally plod down the hallway. He emerged, hair disheveled and wet but once again completely clothed. Soul took a second to blink in surprise at both of them before scrunching up his eyebrows. "I don't remember letting either of you in."

"Key," Black Star reminded.

Liz smiled affectionately even with the minor attitude from Soul. "And he left it open. But at least I brought food."

"I put beer in your fridge." Black Star offered a thumbs up but got a distinctive frown in reply.

"You know I shouldn't really drink on my meds," Soul grumbled.

"One, just one won't kill you. And it's under five percent, practically water." This moved Black Star from his seat, disappearing to the kitchen while Liz motioned for Soul to sit down.

Soul did as directed, straining to create his usual grin. "I'm sorry, Liz."

"Yeah, you better be," Liz spat, before huffing as her arms crossed. "A whole year, Soul Evans. A fucking year and only Black Star knew? That's cold-hearted."

"Don't think I picked favorites," Soul sighed. "I would have kept it from all of you if I could."

"Even worse." Liz tried to direct some of her frustration to the knot of the takeout bag. As she ruffled the plastic, she tried to arrange her words nicely but couldn't seem to channel them, practically spitting at him again. "It's just not fair! We love you, we all love you and for some reason, it's like none of that matters!"

Soul reached out a tentative hand, letting it rest on Liz's shoulders to bring her from yelling at the bag to looking at him. "It matters, Liz. It does. I know you love me. I love you if that helps. It just wasn't about that, OK? It was never about how much we all loved each other." He flexed his hand, gripping at her a little tighter before standing and exchanging places with Black Star who'd come back fumbling with three beers.

Liz blinked after him, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening from his cool reply. "He's the worst," Liz's voice cracked.

"Yeah, what else is new." Black Star set the cans on the table, opening one and giving it to Liz. "So what'd you bring?"

Liz took a long swig, trying to focus on the foamy malt instead of the taste of tears. "Chinese food."

"Solid." Black Star popped his own tab as he sat cross-legged at the coffee table. Soul appeared again, plates in hand with a pile of utensils in the middle. He set them on the table before turning his attention to the TV, the coming attractions starting to blare as he hit play.

Black Star started arranging the food on the table as Liz and Soul slunk off the couch to the floor. "Where's Maka?"

"Work," Liz answered before Soul could, but it was lucky she did since Soul's only answer was something along the line of it wasn't one of their days.

Soul was diving into the food, trying to seem more interested in that than the conversation at hand. "Where?"

Liz couldn't stop a smirk from blossoming across her lips. "Oh, she didn't tell you?"

"I guess I just didn't ask," Soul forced the boredom into his voice.

Black Star and Liz exchanged _the_ look, amused and halfway to laughing. "_The Book of Eibon_. It's this weird little book shop. Lots of rare books, comic books, that's why our number one book nerd works there."

Soul's mind flashed back to his first impression, that Instagram account where every other post was a book review. He'd honestly never asked and in that second he started compiling more simple questions, the kind that could flesh her out. _Because we're friends._

"Awful quiet," Liz nudged him.

Soul tried on his old disinterest again as he threw food onto his plate. "Do I have to have a comment for everything?"

Liz laughed as she leaned on her elbow, watching his forced attention on the food. "Nope." She waited for him to finish before stealing a forkful off his plate, enjoying every second of his feigned annoyance. "But, speaking of Maka, you two see a lot of each other."

"Depends on what your definition of a lot is." Soul tried to end the conversation with a stab of his fork, shoveling food into his mouth.

Liz exchanged another glance at Black Star before letting it lie, allowing conversation to be overtaken by chewing and the movie droning in the background. Not that the conversation left him since Soul knew the insinuation and honestly, he couldn't blame them. When was the last time he left someone new in? And a girl at that? But he hadn't allowed himself even a second of pondering that. The only loving he allowed himself was that memory of the piano bench, trapping those feelings in the past.

It had been about fifteen minutes of silence before Soul caught Liz staring at him, her eyelashes batting playfully. "What?"

"Soul, what's your type?"

He choked, partially on the food but mostly on the statement, having to strike a firm fist to his chest.

"He likes blonds," Black Star offered. "There was you, so maybe blond with tits, and then… remember that other blond? The one that he met just that one time? Who was that?"

The color flared in his cheeks as Liz stared thoughtfully. "You're right, he was obsessed with that mystery girl. She was blond?"

"Wasn't she?" Black Star gave Soul a kick under the table.

"I don't know who you're talking about," the words were so quick from his mouth that they were practically one.

"Oh," Liz cooed out the vowel. "His first love, right? That girl at the piano."

"I wasn't in love," Soul complained before scrambling to his feet in an attempt to give himself a little distance from them on the couch.

"At least admit you were crushing hard," Black Star laughed through another mouthful of food.

Soul sunk a hand into his hair. "Yeah, fine." Maybe fifteen-year-old him had thought it was love, the way he obsessed over each second of their time together, examining their conversation and remembering every detail of her smile. He got all that and more at least three times a week now but it wasn't the same kind of infatuation.

"What happened with that anyway?" Liz prodded at his knee. "I thought you said she was some producer's kid. Wasn't she at the next party? Did she just end up being a complete snob or something?"

"Bad timing," Soul muttered. "You know, with Wes and everything."

Liz's lips pressed together as her head slowly shook. "I should have-"

"It's OK." Soul let out a weak laugh before leaning towards Liz. "Promise to keep a secret?" Liz nodded slowly, her eyebrows furrowing. "The girl at the piano… that was Maka."

"Shut up," Black Star guffawed. "You are so fucking full of it."

Soul shook his head firmly. "I swear."

"Romantic," Liz gushed, grabbing hold of his knee. "Were you her first love, too?"

"Told you, not love," Soul groaned, "And she doesn't even remember. Keep it that way."

"No way, she has to remember," Liz cried.

"She doesn't, and you're not going to help her, Elizabeth." Soul pointed an accusatory finger. "It's just… the past and that's where it's going to stay, OK?"

Liz shook his leg while stamping her feet against the floor, a toddler temper tantrum. "That's totally not fair! It would be so cute."

"We're friends," Soul let himself laugh at her antics but felt the humor draining away. Somewhere out there was an alternate universe where maybe they'd met again, where Wes was alive and where navigating this world came with the ease of tying your shoe. But that was a fantasy, and what he had here was just the best he was allowed. Just as that thought ran through his mind his phone buzzed and as he took it out he felt that spark of joy at her name.

"_Bored. What are you doing?"_

Soul slipped back to the floor, getting a better angle before turning the camera on the three of them. "Get over here, Black Star." Liz didn't need direction, already starting with the smile partnered with a lean into Soul, her head falling on his shoulder. Black Star got on his knees, throwing his head over Soul's other shoulder. Of course, it looked utterly ridiculous, but Soul hit send anyway, only adding the caption, "_Swear I'm not rubbing it in."_ He hesitated, fingers poised over the screen before sending the second message, "_Wish you were here."_

* * *

Soul's phone buzzed in his pocket but he was slow to grab it. It was one of those days, the kind that made him feel like his gut was grinding rocks.

It was Maka's name on the screen, a whisper of momentary relief until he opened the message._"We're going to have to reschedule. Sorry!"_

_"OK." _Soul sent back quickly, contemplating chucking the phone. The prospect of not seeing her shouldn't make him feel so disjointed but all he had today was a pinky hold on the world.

The phone buzzed again and this time Soul was sure he'd throw it until the second came in succession. When he flipped the screen towards him it was a call this time and he somehow couldn't keep himself from wanting to hear her voice. "I'm not blowing you off!" It came mostly as a groan, no other greeting.

"I said it was OK," he murmured back.

He heard her shuffling on the other end as she collapsed on her bed. "I'm pretty sure I have a fever. I think we have aspirin in the house but nothing else that I could take to make me functional enough to come over. And of course, Spirit isn't here and Liz is at work so I have no one to guilt into getting me medicine."

His eyes shut as his fingers pinched into his thigh, the prickly pull of the skin forcing him to breathe. "I can go."

"No," Maka grumbled. "That's not what I meant. I didn't call you to guilt you but to apologize."

He tried to pretend he didn't hear her as well as the dark voice in his head preaching the ridiculousness of this moment. "What kind do you need?"

She sighed, "Soul, I said-"

"Just let me," he murmured, more to himself than her. _Just let me do this for her. Just stop thinking, screaming, agitating for two seconds and let me be normal._

Maka paused, biting at her lip as the idea rolled around her mind. "Get whatever cold and flu medicine, I'm not picky."

"I'll be over in thirty." Soul couldn't take another second of it, hanging up the phone immediately. He tried to urge Black Star's voice in his head '_social skills lesson number 2: get in the fucking shower'_ as he slowly moved to sit up. It was as if none of his muscles had any elasticity but he forced each stretching movement, each footstep towards doing this infinitesimally small thing, a task that should be uncomplicated.

He kept his eyes on the tile in the shower, trying not to get caught in those thoughts about himself, about the way his body hid nothing, only his clothes did. He kept saying her name at different intervals, forcing his brain back on track every time some other whisper tried to take him. _And there you are, the creepiest of creeps, muttering her name in the shower_. He pushed himself through the rest, the cleaning and dressing that felt like a marathon run.

The outside actually came as a relief, the warmth of sun evened by just enough of a breeze to make sweat a little in the hoody he'd decided to wear. He unzipped it, rolling up his sleeves as he moved down the block. It was supposed to be a quick in and out, Soul hurrying down the aisle to grab the first generic cold medicine, but as soon as he was just about to reach the check-out he turned on his heels and grabbed a basket instead. He slowly went back down the aisles, grabbing the strangest assortment, trying to pick out from his own mental inventory of things you needed when you were sick.

Checking out took the rest of his life as he anxiously played out Maka's possible reactions in his mind. _She's going to think you're crazy. Creepy. Overbearing._ As the adjectives list grew he finally made it out on the street and made the now four streets over trek to Maka's apartment. It was the stoop that finally froze him in place, the idea of entering and maybe having to offer actual identification making him grow roots. At least ten deep breaths later, his feet moved forward and the doorman instantly perked.

"You must be Soul."

His fingers tensed on the bag and he was sure that his feet were going catapult him back out of the door before his mind could even wrap around the situation. "Uh, yeah…"

"Ms. Albarn described you," the doorman gave a wave of his finger towards his hair. "Said you were on your way."

_Yeah, white hair, red eyes, pretty easy to spot._ "Can I, uh…?"

"Sure, go right on up. Fifth floor. 508." The doorman motioned towards the elevator and Soul sidestepped, trying not to draw any more attention as the car seemed to crawl. "Pardon me for asking, but you're Ms. Albarn's friend?"

Soul blinked, unsure of what the truth was there. He had said it but she had neither confirmed nor denied. Their meetings weren't necessarily about the music either, a process that both of them had seemed to slow down. Mostly, they were hanging out. She was making him leave the house. He'd even actually done that running thing she'd suggested. Soul added all of that together and replied, "Yeah."

"That's nice," the doorman nodded. "She hasn't had one come by in a while. I was almost afraid she'd never look happy again."

Reprieve came in the form of the doors sliding open. "Have a good night," Soul managed before enclosing himself in the confines of the box. _She always looks happy. No, that's not true, sometimes it's this thin veil she keeps over her face._ He jiggled the bag of goods trying to remind himself of his purpose. _You're not on some detective mission to find out who she is beyond what she shows you. _The ride was an eternity and Soul found himself pinching at the skin of his thigh to keep his breath even.

The hallway was brightly lit, art deco style sconces leaving almost no hope for shadows as they lined the walls. Soul counted them between counting the doors, finally stopping at 508. His first knock seemed to thunder against the door, the anxiety propelling his hand so he left it at one. He was sure she had missed it since there was a panic-filled pause, his hand hovering next to the door. Just before he was about to knock again he heard footsteps on the other side of the wood. It creaked open slowly and a blanketed Maka peeked from the doorway.

"Hey." Soul had to smother half a laugh at how ridiculous the quilt looked draped around her face but he lost it as she started to wither, her shoulder bumping into the doorframe. "Hey!" This came as a cry instead as he jumped to grab her, just barely keeping her on her feet. Getting that close was like opening an oven and Soul could forget all the panic of touching her. "You're fucking burning." He managed to get her back in the apartment, sliding her down the wall until she was safely on her bottom.

"I told you I had a fever," she whimpered.

"Fuck," Soul muttered as he started the search through the bag. He took out the medicine first, fiddling with the plastic sleeve of pills until it produced two orbs. "Here." He placed the pills in her shaky palm before going back to the bag and produced a sports drink, breaking the seal on the cap for her.

"Thank you." Maka popped the medicine in her mouth and swallowed them with the obnoxiously blue liquid. Her nose crinkled at the taste but she took a few more sips before handing it back to him.

"Lose the blanket," he murmured.

"I'm cold," she protested but did as ordered. As soon as she had leaned out of it, she felt his arms around her again, slipping under her legs and around her waist. Suddenly she was airborne, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. "Hey!"

"I'll come back for it." His eyes were trained on the hallway, refusing to budge to the face that was now so close to his. "Bedroom?"

"Second on the right." In her fever dream, it felt like he was the one on fire, where her skin touched his suddenly alight with nerves.

Soul followed the directions, again having to suppress a chuckle at a room that just looked very much like her. Not the flamboyant pinks of a girly girl but cool blues and purples where you could see the wall. It was mostly covered with posters or scraps of paper filled with handwritten passages snipped from books or poems. He moved her to the bed, trying as softly as possible to deposit her. His quick move to stand was interrupted by her hands that slipped from around his neck but planted on his cheeks, forcing him to stay at arm's length. There was heat from her fingers but his cheeks matched it. "Thank you," she murmured again.

"I'll be right back." He slowly put his hands over hers, detaching them before turning back towards the hallway. He moved back to the front door, locking it and picking up her blanket and the bag with the rest of his goodies. Each step started to bring the anxiety back, the overwhelming new memory of touching her slowly fleshing out and solidifying in his mind. _Give her the stuff and leave. She'll really just need to sleep anyway and you're going to do what? Stare at her while she sleeps?_ Soul made his way back through the doorway, hoping to already find her fast asleep but finding those green eyes waiting expectantly for him.

"Thank you," this turned into a long coo.

A laugh rumbled in his chest. "You said that three times." He crouched next to the bed, arranging things on her bedside table: the sports drink, the water, cough drops, tissues, an assortment of jellos and other random items that the back of his mind deemed necessary.

"What's all that?" She scooted closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out a shaky hand to touch each thing.

"Sick stuff," Soul hesitantly brought his eyes to hers.

A slow but brilliant smile spread across her face. "You only had to get the medicine."

"You're welcome," Soul huffed before he stood. "You should sleep."

Maka grasped at the hem of his shirt. "Can I be just a little more selfish?"

"What?" His eyes fell to her fingers, watching her grip the fabric tighter.

"Will you stay with me for a little while?" She heaved a sigh. "You can say no, you should say no because if you get sick I'll absolutely hate myself but… I don't feel good, and being alone makes it feel worse."

Soul matched her sigh and forced his hands in his pockets, glancing around the room. "I'll, uh, get a chair from the dining room?" He took a step but found resistance, her hand still firmly gripping his shirt.

"You can just sit on the bed." Maka detached her hand and scooted over, leaving him ample space to sit.

_Leave. Leave. Leave. This is too close, it's too much._ But what was he going home to do? To ruminate in that stubborn pain, to ache with that self-hatred in every muscle. Granted, here he was probably only promised panic, but it was the good kind, the pushing himself out of his comfort zone, the slow hurt of getting back to normal, or whatever his normal was. "You get me sick and I'll never forgive you."

"Oh, don't say that." Maka only frowned for a moment before it shone back to life as Soul sat next to her and kicked off his shoes.

Soul pressed his back to the headboard, stretching out his legs. "Did you actually take your temperature?"

"No." Maka waited for him to settle before surprisingly him again, her hand reaching out and returning to clutch at his shirt. "I don't even think we have a thermometer."

Unfortunately, that wasn't part of his cache, and even though it probably hadn't even hit the fifteen-minute mark since she took the medicine, Soul found himself clearing the hair from her forehead, testing her temperature beneath his fingers. "You should probably go to the doctor."

"Maybe tomorrow," she murmured as her eyes closed at the wonderful sensation. "Do that again."

"Do what?" Soul lifted his hand, letting it hover over her.

"It's like that other night," she was dizzy in the fever and her voice was drifting. "You're good at that, smoothing hair. Like my mom."

He was afraid she would feel the trembling in his hand as he brought it back down, gently pressing back the hair. "Your mom's probably better."

"I don't think I can remember enough to compare," she whispered shakily. "I haven't seen her in three years."

Soul instantly moved to clear the blond tendrils again, everything in him now whispering to comfort. This wasn't supposed to be a secret finder mission, but he was almost elated with the prospect. "Is that when they got a divorce?"

"No…" Her fist full of his shirt pressed into his hip. "I was fifteen. Papa… you know Papa surprised me with it? He told me right before we went to a party, right in the car. It's so I couldn't yell, scream, just hold it with a long, slow, internal scream."

He was smoothing again but seeing that girl under his fingertips, hair longer, face a little more cherubic, but mostly not that far off. "A record party?"

"Yeah, as if I couldn't hate them more." A sigh withered from her lips. "And the only spot I found to hide away was occupied. There was a boy…"

That tremble moved from his fingers up his arm, sending a cool shiver across his shoulders. "So you were trying to hide?" A corner, partitioned off by silky curtains to hide an elegant piano.

"He beat me to it," Maka murmured, her breathing starting to slow. "He was nice though. I thought… I thought for a second I could forget it all because he made me laugh."

Fifteen-year-old him would be ecstatic, over the moon, especially since the weeks following had only been filled with memories of the way she swept back her hair, the glow of her batting green eyes in the low light. "Who was he?"

"Not sure." Maka's smile softened, a sweet, breathy sigh coming from her lips. "I kind of always thought we'd meet at the next party or the one after that, but it was like he disappeared. Maybe he was just a figment of my imagination."

_That's because by the next party that boy was torn apart, dead, buried._ Soul disguised his gasping breath with a cough, pressing a fist to his mouth to stop a second. "I don't know, did you have a fever that night, too?" he managed to choke with a new breath.

"No," Maka complained, her eyes opening slowly. "I'm sorry for making you stay."

"Didn't make me do anything," Soul muttered as he brushed back her hair again. "Now, will you please sleep?"

"Are you going to leave?" Her voice had a small, childlike quality as she closed her eyes again.

He struggled against the honesty but let it drift from his lips, "Weird if I don't."

"Did you shower today?" Her voice was drifting off.

"Yeah," he chuckled.

"Did you eat?"

"Yes."

"Did you sleep?"

Soul's eyebrows furrowed. "The regular two hours."

"Then nap with me."

It was a new feeling, like being choked with anxiety but happily losing the air. "You really want me to get sick," he hoped she didn't hear it, the unexpected breathiness to his voice.

"I won't breathe on you." She released her grip and rolled over, trying to settle the quilt around her.

Soul reached out, fixing the blanket up to her neck, tucking it against her back. He waited for more argument, not just from her but from the black junk in his brain. Instead, it was like being in her space was enough to mute it all, a calming wavelength exuding from her. His back hugged the edge of the bed as he sunk down next to her. The hand that had fixed her blanket fell between the two of them, pressing into the quilt. He couldn't stop the joy that was starting course through him as that last, good part of his mind was whispering, _She remembers you. She holds onto that memory as happily as you do._


	8. Tangled up by Loco, ph-1

"_Don't come over today."_

Maka stared at the screen, her eyebrows furrowing. She had actually been almost out the door, ready to go see Soul. Instead of typing, she clicked his contact, hearing the elongated rings. "Come on, I know you have your phone in your hand," she muttered.

"Maka," he answered at almost the last ring, his voice still as hesitant as his finger had been.

"Soul," she mimicked before huffing. "Here's the place where Black Star says '_Social skills lesson number 12: when you cancel on someone, you try to make it not sound belligerent.'_"

"Black Star wouldn't use the word belligerent." Soul used most of his energy for that quip, getting a terse laugh in reply.

Maka shelved the amusement quickly. "What happened?"

He replied something absolutely unintelligible, mouth barely close enough to the phone with a voice barely above a whisper.

The inadequate reply was enough, Maka enunciating hard into the phone, "I'm coming over."

"Maka," Soul groaned. "Don't. I'm sick, OK?"

"Sick?" Maka sighed, "Do you have a fever?"

"Yes," he muttered.

"No," Maka turned the vowel into a howl. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Stop," Soul grumbled. "This is why I wasn't going to tell you. Don't get worked up, it's no big deal." _I got myself into this mess, anyway._ He shouldn't have done a million things that day, but laying down next to her had definitely been the nail in one of many coffins. Not just him getting sick, but he was getting to a place where he was soon going to have to admit that being physically close to her was just as important as the rest.

"Of course it's a big deal," Maka griped back. "I'm coming over. Just leave the door unlocked and get to bed. I can't exactly carry you down the hallway."

"Maka-" but his complaint was cut off by her hanging up. The fever fuzz had thankfully left him mostly unable to process a lot of his panic but Soul still stood indecisively at the door, clicking and unclicking the lock. With a shaky sigh, he left it unlocked and trudged back to the studio, hunkering down in his swivel chair. He considered the couch but knew as soon as Maka got there he'd be yelled at either way so his best bet was the easiest to get back up from.

His eyes had just started drifting closed when he heard the click of the door and then her determined footsteps down the hall. As if on cue, she appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"Told you, don't sleep in the bed," he muttered.

"You're sick!" Maka grasped him by the blanket he'd wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him up from the seat. "You're going to at least lay in bed."

Soul simply grumbled in reply, letting her guide the way. The embarrassing thought crossed his mind that he hadn't changed the sheets since she'd slept in them and there was no time now to stop her pressing. He almost tumbled into the bed, trying to ignore the fact that the pillow still smelled like her. Before he could even get comfortable her hand was on his forehead, the other strangely pressed against his chest. "What are you doing?"

She dipped her face closer to his. "Definitely have a fever."

"I could have told you that," he grumbled as he tried to turn his head to the side. This only succeeded in making her hand brush through his hair, a sensation far from unpleasant.

"Did you take medicine?" Maka released him and without waiting for an answer started shuffling through her purse, taking out the leftover pills for Soul's nursing. "Are you on any other medicines?"

"Yeah, but it's fine," Soul muttered as he took the pill packet from her fingers. "Can you get me some water?"

"Sure." Maka disappeared into the hallway.

Soul sighed as he struggled against the plastic. The exhaustion was starting to pull on every inch of him but real sleep always seemed too far away. When she was sick, when they napped together, it had been different, his mind quiet and sleep came peacefully for a few hours. What was he going to do, then? Beg her to sleep next to him? Was it so weird after she'd done the same?

Maka returned, water in hand and a deeper frown on her face. "Should we go to the hospital?"

"Why?" Soul sat up enough that he could take the water from her, popping the pills into his mouth before downing the mix.

"I don't know, could this sickness bring back the old one? You did just get out of the hospital…" Without asking, Maka sat next to him on the bed.

Soul finished the water, letting the empty cup fall to the sheets as he rolled on his side. "Maka…" he clenched his fingers into the sheets, a withering sigh escaping his lips. "It wasn't that kind of sick."

Maka weighed playing stupid. Her tricky comment made earning his truth hollow, so she let out her own sigh before reaching out to delicately touch at his shoulder. "I kind of guessed. I'm sorry, I probably just should have asked."

"Asking doesn't always work with me," he muttered before awkwardly letting a fingertip touch hers.

"Then this probably won't work, but what kind of sick was it?" Part of her was scolding, reminding herself of Black Star's words, but the other was sure there was no other way.

Fight or flight was deadened between the pills and the way her hand felt against his shoulder. "I tried to kill myself." He absently wondered how many times he had actually said that. Maybe once at the hospital during intake but after that… maybe none. It was always his mother or Black Star whispering it softly for him, divulging secrets only when necessary.

"Asking if you feel better now seems stupid," Maka whispered.

"I'd prefer you didn't." Soul hunched his shoulders and her fingers left him and he felt the crushing weight of a sudden loneliness as if she'd just walked out of the room or out of his life completely. The next minute sent him completely topsy-turvy, feeling the bed move next to him as her body sank down, all of her tight against his back as her arm scooped over her side, that hand resting on his chest again.

"You were shivering. I thought maybe you were cold," she murmured but it sounded deafening with her lips so close to his ear.

He was shaking, maybe because of the fever but more so the fear, the absolute terror of letting those words exist in the world. "You're going to get sick."

"At this point, I'm probably immune." Even though Maka loved the comfort of this current position, she pushed herself up on one elbow, giving a better view of his face. His cheeks looked flushed but his lips were still pressed in that thin line, the one that held too many secrets. "Is that why you can't sleep?"

"Sort of." Soul let his eyes drift sideways, catching her face looking down on him in his periphery. "I have nightmares."

Maka moved her hand from his chest to his hair, clearing some of it in an attempt to return the favor. "You should really try to sleep today. More than one or two couch hours."

"I know," he muttered. "Behind you, in the nightstand, there's a pill bottle." He had to resist a sigh as she detached from him, rolling over in the bed to find her quarry. She snatched the orangey plastic as soon as she saw it, turning back over to lay it in front of him. "Thanks."

"Is that going to help?"

"Maybe." He clenched the pill bottle before slowly rolling towards her, surprised by the closeness and the way that she didn't shy from it. "If I take this, can you do me a favor?"

"Of course," Maka smiled down at him. This was a strange position, the intimacy juxtapositioned by his almost complete lack of recognition of it.

Soul shook the container in his hand, hoping the clink of the pills would somehow calm him. "Can you come by tomorrow morning? Just make sure I'm awake by noon."

"Can I just stay?"

Soul sighed, "Maka, come on, you _will_ get sick again."

"And I told you I'll be fine." Maka pointed to the bottle. "Take one now. I'll keep myself busy until bedtime. Then I'll just wake you up in the morning."

_But where the hell are you going to sleep?_ Soul was sure he would never be able to ask and perhaps he didn't even want to know the answer. "OK."

"That was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be," Maka laughed. "Before you go to sleep, are you hungry?"

"No." Soul let his eyes shy away, focused on opening the bottle and taking one of the pills out. He hesitated, feeling the pull between Black Star's words and that dark thing in his head. Taking this was _normal_, a temporary leveling agent that he wouldn't always need but relying on it now was _normal_. For just a second he imagined grabbing her instead, pulling her into bed with him and holding her until that calm that she exuded lulled him back into sleep. It hit him that this moment was the first time he thought about touching her without some kind of prompting and that old fear of wanting something churned in his gut.

"You need more water." Maka reached over him, grabbing the glass before hurrying off the bed.

"Wanting things isn't for you," he murmured to the empty room.

She was back in a flash, taking the pill bottle from his fingers and replacing it with the glass. "Don't worry, I promise I'll stay." Soul silently popped the pill in his mouth, this time only sipping enough to swallow before putting the glass down on the nightstand. Maka put the bottle back, closing the drawer before turning to him, placing her hand softly on his forehead. "Just sleep, OK?"

_Stay with me_, he wanted to beg but he convinced himself she'd come back. He closed his eyes, feeling her touch slip away but finding her scent still on the pillow. Her hands came back long enough to arrange the covers around him, cocooning him in as he drifted away with very little effort. The meds always did this, blacked him out completely by leaving neither nightmares nor dreams. There wasn't any of that waking up to rearrange or to even check if she was there because consciousness wasn't an option.

"Soul… Good morning." It wasn't so much her voice that pulled him out of the darkness but the softness of her hand against his forehead again. "I don't think you even have a fever anymore. But that medicine really put you to sleep."

His eyes still felt heavy, making it a fight to even bring her into view. "Told you," he groaned. Even his hand felt heavy as he brought it up, touching over her hand before moving back it to clear his hair back. "You OK?"

"Totally fine," Maka chirped. "You didn't do any tossing and turning so it was just like sleeping by myself."

Soul swallowed slowly. "It's not… it doesn't bother you to sleep next to me?"

"Should it?" Maka blinked at him.

"I guess not."

Maka hesitated, slowly taking her hand away from his forehead to press it into the sheets. "Do you want me to stop? Does it bother you?"

Soul forced the last bit of bleariness from his eyes. "No." _You should have lied. You're being selfish and in the long run, all that does is hurt people. You want, you hurt. That's all you're good for._ Even with that vicious whisper in the back of his mind, he found himself repeating with force, "No. As long as you're OK with it, please, stay."

* * *

"You made a face." Soul paused the music at a place that he didn't exactly feel was particularly face-worthly, eyes narrowing at her.

Maka threw up her hands in innocence, "No, no, it's fine. Turn it back on."

Soul shook his head, "What don't you like?" This wasn't just another game of find-the-middle-ground, a song challenge that they'd given each other since the grocery store to find songs that they liked and the other could bear. The playlist was still fairly short.

"Me," Maka groaned out before collapsing to the floor with a dramatic huff.

Soul chuckled, getting a distinctly annoyed glare from her. "Be a little more specific. Tone? Pitch? Pacing?"

Maka sighed as she rolled onto her side, finger tracing the lines in the laminate floor. "Just me. And I'm just being a big baby. I always get this way on the final cut."

"So, you just don't like it because it has you in it?" Soul offered with a strange guilt of being so succinct. He was starting to realize he wasn't so good at just easing it out of her, that bluntness was starting to be his way with her, and a blunt weapon was just as damaging as any other.

"Yes," Maka sighed, not feigned by the forwardness.

Soul pressed play again, furrowing his brow as he pulled at one of his cuticles. _She can jump in and solve any problem when it's for someone else, but as soon as it's just a her thing, she shuts the lid closed and pretends it's not there._ _Stop, stop playing therapist._ He had moved on to picking at his thigh by the time the song ended, pinching at the flesh to clear his head.

As he stopped the track from repeating he leaned over the piano, giving his practiced speech to the keys. "Professional opinion: package the two together, take it to a couple of record execs using the sellable one first, only push to piggyback the second if you think they're in love with the first. As someone who likes music, though, preference is to the second one, the one _you_ made. It has more soul, more like you."

"You think I should actually take this somewhere?" Maka narrowed her eyes at him with a frown. "I'm really not even that good and-"

"Why do you do that?" He snapped and then slapped a hand to his mouth, trying to wipe away the words. "Sorry, just, isn't this what you want? If you're singing, making music, don't you want to sell it in the end? Isn't that the point of school?" The piano got the brunt of his questions.

Another long, lingering sigh came from the floor as Maka rolled over on her back, focusing on the ceiling since she knew he wouldn't look at her until her eyes were unavailable. "I think it's just because I was born to do this, you know? Papa does it, Mama does it, so the expectation was it would be me next. Some people say I have talent, so, alright, I keep going, but is it what I want? I don't know. I like writing so I try to tell myself that that's a part of it, but I don't know." The sting hit her at the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry, that sounds so selfish, especially since you worked hard."

Soul let his eyes inch across the room until they fell on her. "It's OK. Honesty's a fair trade for all the work. But I still think you should try to sell it. You can blame it on me whether it works or not."

Maka huffed, "As if you're ever the bad guy."

"Maybe in my own head," he muttered as he rubbed a hand over his face.

"Hey." When he brought the hand away, Maka was staring up at him, those green eyes glowing just a little too much for him to handle and he wanted to pull away but he was already trapped. "If I can listen to your advice about not being so bad, you can listen to mine, right? You're probably the best guy I know, Soul."

What was it, that pain in his gut? Was it an ache? A stab? He couldn't even determine whether it was a happy or sad kind of thing: was it the healing of a wound or the opening? "Don't let Black Star hear you say that," Soul managed to breathe out. His reward was a hearty laugh from her and he honestly didn't know what to do with it. Soul found himself pinching again.

Suddenly Maka was up from the floor, kneeling at his feet as her hand burned into his, trapping his fingers on his thigh. "Why do you do that?"

There was no hierarchy for the panic, not knowing which one to address first. One, she was touching him again, a touch in an area that for him was completely off-limits. Two, she was asking about _it_, about more of _it_ and even though he'd been honest about the hospital this seemed like new dreaded territory. Some people had breakdowns, movies even sometimes romanticized them enough that people could think a long-term hospital stay was dreamy. But this part, this was ugly, taboo, disgusting. "Nervous habit," he could only manage as a whisper, gasping for air in the process.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

What hurt was the way her fingers pressed again, forcing his motions to stop and forcing him to realize that a part of him liked her hand there. "It does." He pushed the chair back, hearing it connect sharply with the wall in his effort to escape. He'd gotten enough space between them that her hand had fallen back to her lap but her eyes were still locked. "It's not…" And in the absence of words he found himself wanting to repeat the motion, forcing a frustrated growl from his mouth before his hand clenched into a fist, rubbing the knuckles into the soft flesh instead.

"Don't," Maka whispered gently as she crawled close enough to grab at his fist again. "Don't get upset."

Soul laughed ruefully, giving up the fight as he could no longer retreat, trapped between the wall and her. "It's what I do to not get upset."

One by one, Maka unraveled his fingers, the fist becoming an open palm as if he were going to give her something. Instead, she gave him her hand, slender fingers wrapping around his. "Does this make it better or worse?"

"Both," Soul grimaced.

She sighed, "You got upset because I called you the best."

"Doesn't vibe." That thing was whispering to tear his hand away, to not feel the radiating warmth in her grip, the beat of her pulse like a morse code message of support. Instead, he leaned back in the chair, hearing it clunk against the wall again as he brought his eyes to the ceiling. "I'm so fucked."

_I'm fucked_, she wanted to say because why was her reaction to hold his hand? Why did she want so badly to prove to him that her statement had been true? And when she said that, she'd felt it so deeply, like the echo of a beat of her heart. Maka could only let the silence linger, concentrating on keeping the contact with him, trying to push some kind of message with that.

_She hasn't let go. She should have let go minutes ago. She should be asking me, questioning me, or at least changing the subject so she can pretend that she didn't see this part of the mess._ Soul brought his attention down from the ceiling, finding her waiting patiently with that easy smile on her face. "I don't know how to explain it to you," he murmured.

"That's OK," she squeezed his hand. "Just when you think you're ready, tell me. I'll be waiting."


	9. Dancing on Glass by Bumkey

Liz poured a little more wine in Maka's glass and Maka spun it. Not necessarily to be fancy but to swirl the thought before she said it. "It wasn't just sleepiness. Or maybe it was, I don't know. He just looked up at me and his eyes were so... drifty? Hazy, maybe. And then he said '_No. As long as you're OK with it, please, stay.'_" She followed the sweet words with the bitter wine.

Dumbfounded was too weak a word to describe Liz's current condition. "Hold on, you slept in his bed. _He_ let you sleep in his bed. You, for lack of a better term, _snuggled_ for most of the night-"

"He was cold," Maka corrected.

"OK, sure," Liz rolled her eyes. "But do you see what I'm saying here? This kind of behavior… I'm not even sure Tsubaki and Black Star are this cheesy and they've been dating for over a year."

"It's not like that," it was the weakest of protests in the face of the facts. "The closeness is just comfort, you know?"

Liz took a long swig to fortify her words before exasperatedly sighing, "Yes, comforts exchanged by boyfriends and girlfriends, Maka."

"He doesn't want that," Maka echoed her sigh and her sip.

"Says _who_?" Liz leaned forward in her chair as Maka tried to sink back, avoiding the accusation. "You asked him what he wants from you?"

"He just _doesn't_," Maka's volume was suddenly out of her control, desperation she didn't appreciate saturating her voice.

Liz sucked her teeth, watching as those green eyes tried to find anchor anywhere else around the room. "Do you like him?"

Maka took another sip of her wine before pressing a thin line with her lips. "Of course I do, he's one of my best friends at this point."

"Oh, my _God_," Liz heaved. "Maka, stop. Do you _like_ him? Do you have _a thing_ for him? Do you think he's dreamy and cute all rolled into one? Do you have a crush on him? Or do I need more euphemisms?"

The glass clinked to the coffee table, freeing her to dive into the pillows of the couch, clutching one to her chest. "Liz…" she started to formulate the excuses, the laundry list of reasons why 'no' should be the answer. "I don't even think I know what a crush is anymore. It was never about my interest in them, it was always about them wanting me so I think I stopped wanting." But she brought back the moment again, her hand on his forehead, those sleepy eyes looking back at her.

"Well, when was the last time you had a crush?" Liz always loved this train of thought, the exploration of teenage years usually so drama-filled and romantic in a self-involved sort of way.

Maka rested her chin on the pillow, skipping far down the timeline. There was no point in looking at college or even the end of high school. At that point, she was already, for a lack of a better word, _ruined_. It stopped being about her feelings so long ago that the rewind almost lasted too long for Liz, a frown starting to appear on her face. "I guess… when I was fifteen. It was kind of stupid, especially since I only met him once…"

Liz's frown exploded as her tongue almost matched suit. _The piano! She has to remember, just not that it's him! _The secret was bursting from her gut as her toes curled with the force of keeping it down. "Your first love?" She barely managed to keep it a squeal.

Maka blinked before crumbling into amused laughter. "I guess what fifteen-year-old me considered love, sure."

"Tell me _everything_," Liz chimed. _Especially since Soul told me just about nothing._

"My parents were splitting," Maka sighed, letting the pain go first before moving onto the only memory of that night, that month, that year that she treasured. "I was trying to hide because everything there just reminded me of the cheating and the pettiness between the two of them. So I pushed aside this flowy curtain at one of the far ends of the ballroom we were at. I was sure it was just going to be a wall, especially since behind it seemed to be nothing more than darkness but that's when I saw him…

"_Either come in or close the curtain," the boy's gruff voice whispered from the darkness._

_Maka considered going back to the party, but if the only other option was being dragged around some more by her father she was pretty sure she'd take the terse boy in the dark. She took a step inside, letting the curtain fall back to its original hang. They were completely opaque, the only light offered from the two small windows in this corner annex and with the moon barely available, it was hard to make out exactly who he might be. "What are you doing here?"_

"_What's it look like?" the boy answered quickly._

"_Well, being a jerk, I guess," Maka snapped right back._

_That brought a laugh from the darkness. "Sorry, just hate these things. Guessing you feel the same or you wouldn't be trying to find a dark spot, too."_

_Maka wrapped her arms around herself. "Was hoping for less dark and more alone."_

"_Well, guess the best I can offer is alone together. Have a seat." _

_She heard the slide more than saw it, but was slowly able to piece together the piano bench, the white keys glowing slightly in the darkness. Maka took the invitation, sitting close enough that she could feel the heat radiate off his leg. Squinting into the darkness produced a boy about her age, maybe just a smidge taller but probably not, with light hair and dark eyes. The best she could figure was blond and brown, but for all she knew from the lighting they could be twins. "Parents: Producer, record exec, singer?"_

"_I thought you said you wanted to be alone," he teased. "Record exec married to a singer. You?"_

"_Producer married to a singer." Her voice warbled, a weak sigh coming from her lips. "Or were married. Soon to be divorced."_

"_Sorry," he mumbled. "At least you have the great catharsis of attending phony parties to get you through."_

_A trickle of a laugh left her mouth, a sensation that she had convinced herself on the car ride over here she'd never feel again. "Who dragged you, mom or dad?"_

"_Older brother," the boy groaned. "He's so annoying. Constantly on my case about being social, sucking up, just being generally uncool. You?"_

"_Dad," she whispered, a cold bite coming to her voice. "So I couldn't pitch a fit about the news."_

"_You mean he told you _tonight_?" the boy let out a dry laugh with a shake of his head. "That's low."_

"_Lowest of the low," Maka added._

_In the silence that started between them, the boy hit a G note, letting it stretch out into the darkness. "Knock, knock."_

"_What?" Maka murmured, coming off the mesmerizing quality of the resonating sound._

"_Knock, knock," he repeated, tapping on the note again for each word._

"_Who's there?" she offered weakly._

"_Boo."_

_Maka pursed her lips, trying to suppress the smile. "Boo who?"_

_The boy turned his face to her, giving her just a minutely clearer picture of his face, just touching at the depth of his eyes and the gorgeous way he could smirk. "Hey, don't cry."_

_The laughter busted out of her mouth regardless of her restraint, regardless of how utterly terrible the joke was. "That was horrible."_

"_Made you laugh, though." It was impossible but the smirk widened. "Why don't they play poker in the jungle?"_

_Maka grinned, "Too many cheetahs."_

"_Don't steal my punchlines." He touched another key, starting up a soft melody. "What did the duck say to the bartender?"_

"_What?" She had no choice but to play nice this time._

"_Put it on my bill." He was playing now, some melody she'd never heard but felt almost as good as the jokes._

"_What are you playing?"_

"'What are you playing badly' _is what you should ask." But he continued anyway. "'The Nearness of You.' You can't sing like Ella Fitzgerald by any chance, can you?"_

"_Probably as badly as you think you play," Maka murmured._

"_Touché." His grin strained a little as his fingers flew along._

_The melody, the appalling jokes, the way he just easily seemed to cut through all of the stormy feelings, all of it overwhelmed her and without thinking, she leaned in and planted a soft kiss against his cheek. He was a boy she didn't know but she couldn't think of anyone in the world who deserved it more._

"He freaked," Maka had to pause to let the laughter take her over, pressing her face into the pillow. "I freaked. And then Papa interrupted and tore me away, back to the party. I didn't even get his name, just Papa saying not to 'bother with that Evans boy!'" She tried her best to copy her irate father before falling back into a fit of laughter.

Liz cursed him, every inch of him, for swearing her to secrecy. _It's perfect, the sweetest thing in the world, and she kissed him! _"But that was the last time? Kissing a boy on a piano bench?"

"It was the last time I felt like someone was paying attention to me for me, not just to please themselves." Maka reached out for the wine glass, washing away that scratchy thought.

Liz ran her fingers through her hair, letting out a huff of air in another attempt to keep the mystery. "What do you think would happen if you met him again?"

"Now?" Maka swirled the wine, trying to picture a grown man at that bench next to her. "Maybe he'd get a kiss on the lips this time," she laughed.

_Oh, I wish he was here to hear that!_ Liz squealed, easily hiding it under the guise of joining in with Maka's merriment. "So, what about crushing on Soul?"

"Liz," Maka elongated the vowel with a whine.

"Fine, fine," Liz sighed. "Just… I think you're tossing out the idea for the wrong reason. You have no idea what's going on in that boy's head - none of us do - so saying he doesn't want something more is putting on blinders. This forced loneliness that you're doing doesn't change what happened."

"Forced loneliness," Maka echoed into her wine glass. "Honestly, Liz, when he looks at me… just looks, it doesn't feel like that. But how is he going to look at me when I tell him? How are those eyes going to change? Because I feel like I'm lying to him, or at the very least omitting the truth."

"And you can't risk it?" Liz wanted to walk over to the couch and shake her, save Maka from this stupid misconception. "Even if I swear it would all end up fine? I know Soul, he-"

"Liz." In the silence, Maka pressed her lips together, playing over her now cherished memories while trying to avoid the idea that they could become all that she had left of him. "I'm going to try, OK? Because I… I do like him, more than I should."

* * *

Maka had been fidgety, restless when she came over and didn't ask but told Soul they were going out. It wasn't exactly anyplace special, a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint they'd gone to once or twice but it was definitely her favorite, or at least her go-to when either mourning or celebrating something. It was where they'd gone after both getting over being sick so it brought Soul back to reminiscing, missing those moments in bed with her since, while Maka had stayed over once or twice after that, he never had the guts to crawl into bed with her or try to achieve that peaceful sleep at her side.

They sat down and ordered without ceremony and Maka got to picking at the corner of the fifties Formica countertop, silently whittling away at her thoughts. Soul tried to be patient but found himself diffusing instead, blowing the paper covering off his straw at her, laughing as it bulls-eyed straight into her cheek.

"Hey!" She brushed at her cheek as she crumpled the paper into a little ball that ineffectually fell to the table as she tried to serve it back at him. But she laughed, and wasn't that just the point? To see that goofy smile as she leaned her elbow on the table to rest her chin on.

Soul tried to keep the momentum. "How was school?"

"The same as always," Maka sighed. "Black Star wants me to do a chorus for a song he's writing, but I don't know. I'm never sure if our styles mesh."

"Who's producing it?"

"No one, yet, it's all in the barely-on-paper stage."

"Let me do it." Soul tried to keep the cool in his voice, straining but not cracking. "I'm pretty good at balancing Black Star out, so…"

Maka grinned, lessening the space between them on the table. "That kind of sounds like an order. Are you actually trying to boss me around, Mr. Eater?"

It was the blush she noticed first, the way the color just crept up from his neck to contrast against the hair that framed his face. "I was just offering."

_Stop liking that so much_, she tried to urge herself but found it useless. "Well, if you still have free time."

"As long as you can start sharing with Black Star." Soul tried to make it a grumble but nothing could be grumpy in the face of that smile, that silly little head tilt she was doing.

"I already share with him," she corrected. "He gets you Thursday through Saturday."

Soul faked the huff well enough, "What am I, a kid?"

"More like a grumpy old man," she laughed but it crept away, some of the humor leaving her face. "I, uh… well, I did what you said, Soul."

Soul watched the change in her breathlessly. "What's that?"

"I hate to admit it," she gulped at the words and even though she had rehearsed them she felt them shake off her lips. "I asked Papa for a favor and got him to get me a meeting at SE Entertainment."

How he even got a breath in after that was beyond him, all the air sucked from his lungs with the name, which the thought that the something between them that had been growing, cultivated even in this poor soil of his heart, was now completely threatened. "SE? Who are you going to talk to at SE?"

"Scott Evans himself, I guess. Apparently, Papa and he did some work together a million years ago, ancient history but nepotism is always the rage." Maka narrowed her eyes. "Why? Is there something wrong with them? I mean, they're big, more into classical, so it'll probably be a total waste, but I've always heard nice things about Mr. Evans."

"No, they're fine, great if he'll actually give you a listen…" Soul muttered off, slipping a hand through his hair. _The problem is that I'm Soul Evans and I've been lying to you or omitting the truth which is probably just as good as a lie and now… now I have to choose._ His hand went to his leg, fingers ready to pinch as tightly as humanly possible, to break blood vessels below the skin, but instead lifted his hand, practically slapping it on the table in the process. "Let me come with you."

He had turned over his hand, extending it across the table into the territory of her own fingers. The movement surprised her, since the last time they held hands it was almost agony for him. Regardless, she let her hand slip into his tentatively. "You don't have to," Maka shook her head. "Really, it's not going to be a big deal, probably just some dumb old favor to my dad."

"So then it's no big deal if I come," Soul whispered.

"I guess not…" _But it's fishy, _that cynical whisper came to the back of her mind, but she tried not to listen. Instead, she clenched his hand tighter. "Thanks, Soul."

"Don't," he murmured as he tried to concentrate on the connection of their hands. It felt like the last link he'd have.


	10. You Don't Know My Name by ph-1

I'm going to apologize since I may overall be flakey in updating over the next month or so. Real-life things are taking my time away from writing.

* * *

Soul had called them a car, again producing that healthy bit of suspicion from Maka which was already amped by his general demeanor. It wasn't just the clenched jaw but the jiggling of his knee, the fine line of sweat at his lower back that made his t-shirt stick in a comical sort of way. Maka didn't need the scenery of the city during the ride, too busy studying the constantly revolving nerves. "You OK?" she finally murmured as she realized the ride would soon come to a stop.

"Fine," he grunted as he rubbed his palms against the tops of his knees.

She wanted to take one of his hands but with the revolution on his legs, she was almost sure she wouldn't catch it. "I told you, you don't have to-"

"I have to." Soul didn't speak another word and thankfully that left her without any fodder. The silence stretched for the last few minutes in the car that dropped them off in the front of a non-descript high rise, gray with windows that spanned for most of the wall. It was a lobby that Soul knew well and he let her get as far as the seating area before putting a hand out to stop her in her tracks. "Just wait here a second."

"I'm not sure I appreciate the orders," Maka frowned.

"Just, please let me do this." Between the weakly waving hand and the wavering in his voice, Maka had no choice, taking a step back and allowing him to continue on his own to the desk. He was lucky that the guard had his eyes focused at the desk, the look of recognition blossoming across his face only after Soul was in front of him to block it. "Hey, Carl."

"Soul, nice to see you, man." Carl flipped through the list in front of him. "Your dad didn't say anything about you coming today."

Soul cleared his throat. "I'm here with Maka Albarn. She has an appointment with him."

Carl scanned the list again, his finger stopping only after one or two entries. "Sure, Albarn. You're a little early but you can go on up."

"Sure, thanks." Soul tried his best to keep his smile intact, to not let the nervousness ruin the moment especially as Carl seemed to beam. "I'll catch you later."

"Sure," Carl waved him off. "I think your mom's in today, too."

"Great," Soul sighed out as he walked back over to Maka who had focused her eyes outward towards the street, letting his secrets stay secret. "We can go up."

"OK." Maka followed his lead, letting him move towards the elevator and hitting the button. She was silent but her mind was not, focused on the conversation she had purposefully tried not to catch but had definitely fabricated in her own mind. The chime of the bell brought them in through the doors but the car was not free of the hustle and bustle of an office building, leaving Maka pressed against the back wordlessly watching as Soul continued to sweat.

As they reached their floor, Soul led them out down a long hallway of etched glass and doors leading to the corner offices of men he knew were right under his father, one good record deal away from another house in San Diego or a third yacht. Soul stopped at the last door, fingers touching the handle. "I'm sorry," he muttered to her.

"Am I going to want to know for what?" Maka pressed her lips together in an attempt to stop the frown from taking over her whole face especially as he opened the door to the waiting room.

"Soul!" The receptionist, a short woman with even shorter brunette hair, bounced from the desk as soon as her eyes laid upon him.

"Hey, Mara," Soul couldn't return half of the enthusiasm, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Maka plastered on a fake smile, her eyes darting between the two of them.

Mara was at Soul's side in an instant, fixing his shirt like a doting mother. "Did Scott have a stroke or something and forget to tell me you were coming?"

"This is Maka Albarn, she's here to see him. I'm just a tag-along." Soul shrugged off her touch, trying to turn his attention to Maka but finding her unwilling to meet his eyes.

"That's a name I recognize," Mara waved Maka forward. "Spirit Albarn's daughter, right?"

"Yes." _Unfortunately_, Maka wanted to gripe but her mind didn't even have the energy to put the effort in, too focused on unraveling this sudden new development in Soul. He had been so good at slowing revealing his truths to her, but now it seemed there was one glaring omission. He was known here, he was somehow so deeply involved but he never shared even a hint of it.

"Well, go on in, Scott's expecting you." Mara moved them towards the only opaque doors in the place before opening one to a rather unadorned office.

Scott Evans turned quickly, his eyes almost instantly lighting on his son. His boys had always been a perfect mixture of him and his wife, Serena giving them her light coloring while Scott gifting them with his tall, lanky but strong frame. Though, the unruly hair definitely came from him along with that incessant need to brush it back which he did, caressing the black strands in a familiar nervous gesture. "I don't have the dates wrong, right? It's not Friday."

"No, dad, it's not," Soul motioned towards Maka, feeling like a broken record. "You have a meeting with Maka Albarn and I, well, I produced the song."

_Dad!_ screamed in Maka's head. _Soul Eater. Soul Evans._

"You did?" Scott looked between his son and this girl, definitely not the spitting image of the Spirit Albarn he remembered. "Your mother didn't say you were working again."

"She wouldn't because I didn't tell her," Soul corrected as he jammed his hands in his pocket. "It's just been one or two songs, and it's just Maka."

Scott settled into a smile, his eyes twinkling with a bit of amusement. "You don't have to justify it to me. I would say keeping busy is probably better for you anyway. But I'm being rude. Scott Evans," Scott moved to extend a hand to Maka. "Though, I guess Soul's already prepped you on all of that."

_No!_ Maka wanted to scream but she swallowed it, keeping her eyes forward and that pleasant, party smile plastered across her lips as she took his hand, shaking it with the required amount of gusto. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Maka Albarn."

Scott withdrew his hand, tapping it to his chin thoughtfully. "How did you two meet again, anyway?"

"Again?" Maka couldn't help it, the words only tumbling weakly from her lips.

"Didn't you meet her before at that party? Oh, God, it must have been at least five years ago." Scott turned his amused smile towards his son. "I seem to remember Maka's father causing a fuss, yelling about staying away from his daughter. I only recall it since you, Soul, were pretty tame in your reaction. At that age, you used to fly off the handle if anyone talked to you like that. You actually seemed flustered instead."

_Because she kissed me. That kiss on the cheek was enough to send me into next week._ Soul shot his eyes hesitantly at her, seeing that shining facade she had put on fade at the edge as she put together the past and present. "She goes to school with Black Star and Liz."

"Why does he insist on going by that name?" Scott sighed. "If you're going to do something like that it's one word. Madonna. Cher."

"His personality is too big for one word," Soul managed the joke along with a half-grin, trying to forget that Maka was stewing.

Scott gave a sharp laugh before pausing to examine his son. "Let me call your mother up. Then Maka and I can get down to brass tacks."

Soul sighed but didn't fight the inevitable, using the opportunity to turn to Maka. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Not now," Maka hissed back. "But you better believe I have some things to say to you in the car."

His stomach lurched and he focused on rubbing at his pants again, but as his hand tried to fall into that old habit of pinching at his thigh he felt her hook his pinky, pulling the hand away from its intended purpose before releasing quickly.

The buzz of his mother's voice shot through the phone and Scott was quick to hang up. "She'll be right up. Maka, why don't you and I have a seat?"

Maka moved to the set of chairs, modern and wiry that didn't exactly entice a person to sit, in front of the desk before easing herself down. Scott plopped across from her in the oversized desk chair, that stereotypical black leather squeaking underneath him. While she could half see the resemblance to Soul, the likeness seemed to end there, all jovial and smiles as he leaned across the desk. "Before we get into the music, let's talk about aesthetics. You're beautiful, not an issue, a shining smile, warm greeting. All of these things work in your favor. You have a connected father, so you have that as well. Though I'll say that's where the nepotism stops. I usually refrain from doing favors for my son."

The described smile still shone. "That wasn't my intention. Black Star just complimented his work and said he was available and then you were the first stop my father suggested. Pure coincidence."

"I'm surprised Spirit would bother to mention me," Scott mused. "Alright. So far, so good. Now, let's talk about your style."

Soul was trying not to spy and certainly not to interject. This only became easy when the door opened, Serena gliding in, her Grecian style dress flowing around her. While it was definitely angelic, that gorgeous white-blond hair framing those bright, somewhere between honey and chocolate colored eyes, Soul always wondered if she ever wanted to be normal. He didn't think he'd ever seen her dressed down, never in jeans and a t-shirt, and she was always moving with a surety and freedom that seemed impossible to keep up twenty-four-seven. "Soul," she cooed, warm and loving as always as she pulled him to her in her always gentle embrace. Serena never bear-hugged, only ever enveloping you in her arms.

"Hey, Mom." He let himself be held until he tentatively added a hand to her back. "You look nice."

Serena moved her hands to his shoulder, pulling him back at arms' length. "Scott called and said my son was here, but who's this imposter? '_You look nice'_ and an actual remnant of a hug? Aliens or a body double?" She cleared the hair from his face. "Not to mention it looks like you've slept."

"What part of that was supposed to not be insulting, Mom?" Soul sighed, pressing her hand away.

"Observations, all of them just observations," Serena laughed. "I'm also observing that your father is talking to a young lady?"

Soul clenched his teeth, just barely avoiding the grimace that wanted to form and instead settling into a sickly smile. "Her name's Maka Albarn."

"Oh," Serena pressed a finger to her chin as her mind drifted. "Spirit Albarn's daughter?" She peeked around Soul, getting the fine profile of Maka's face before turning her attention back to her son. "And why have you brought a beautiful girl here?"

"I didn't bring her," Soul huffed. "She made this appointment with dad all on her own. And why do you have to say 'beautiful' like that?"

"What, you don't think she's beautiful?" Serena batted her eyelashes in a see-through act of innocence before ruffling her son's hair.

"Mom," he groaned, pulling away her hand and trying to hold it in his to stop any further interaction.

"Again, I'd like to ask what's happened to my son," Serena held up their intertwined hands for proof, a laugh swelling but trickling out with a sigh for punctuation. "It's almost like…" Serena edited herself with a squeeze to his hand. "Never mind, darling. How have you been feeling?"

Soul let his eyes drift over to Maka, half a sigh leaving his mouth. "I'm trying, Mom."

"I know you are," she murmured sweetly. "And I know it's hard."

_You don't. You don't know how hard it is to be here when it should be him._ His free hand gripped at his leg, ready to make that little burst of pain erase the thought. _No, no, no, don't. _A quaking sigh left his lips as he forced his hand to only rub down his thigh. "How are you, Mom?"

"Oh," Serena blinked at him for a moment, thrown off again by this version of her son. The past few visits she had seen it, this bit of the Soul she remembered and treasured, but each time it was becoming more defined. She was trying not to hope, but she couldn't deny herself the little bit of joy that came with it. "There are still some difficult days," she wiped away the dreadful feelings with a smile, "but it's always easier when I see you."

No matter how often she said that, and it was one of Serena's favorite phrases with him, that deep, dark voice still screamed, _What a fucking lie. She looks at you and wishes you were the dead one._ That was always the worst of the irrational whispers, the one that cut through him the deepest. "Mom, I…" He was dangerously hanging over the edge of crying. _When you say that I don't believe you. I want to so badly, but I don't._

"Will you introduce me to your friend?" Serena allowed one more squeeze before letting his hand go free.

"Sure," Soul sighed, "but how long she's my friend after this I don't know." That had been more meant to be a mental mutter, but it tumbled from his lips and he had to control his eyebrows from popping up in surprise.

"What did you do?" It wasn't accusatory but amused, his mother peeking again at Maka over her shoulder.

"Kind of didn't tell her I was an Evans."

"Oh," Serena narrowed her eyes. "You were worried she'd take advantage?"

"No…" Soul found himself rubbing at his knees again, not half as comforting as the pinching but Maka had questioned it and he had found that so far the guilt outweighed the need.

Serena was tempted to let it drop, but she wanted to see how close to the old Soul she could get. "Why then?"

_The piano, but it's more than that, isn't it? Remember that was one thing but her connecting me with that darker secret was more important to hide, wasn't it? _"I think… there were some things I wasn't ready for her to know." Soul forced himself to hold his mother's eyes, waiting to see the sadness but instead a loving kind of understanding glazed over them. Every last inch of him fed off of that.

"Well, you're a big boy, you know how to apologize," Serena smiled. "But maybe also decide if you're ready for her to know those things."

Soul nodded slowly before letting his hand fall at her elbow, turning Serena towards Maka and Scott. Their conversation had dwindled out three sentences ago and Scott was trying to keep some kind of momentum with an old story of the glory days of her father, one that Maka wasn't particularly interested in but had learned to feign enthusiasm for. It was both a relief and a new wave of that jumble of feelings Maka had felt when 'dad' was uttered when Soul brought Serena over to her.

Soul waited for the logical conclusion to his father's story before butting in. "This is my mom, Serena."

"Wonderful to meet you," Serena cooed as she took Maka's hand without it being offered, more for patting affectionately than shaking.

"Really, the pleasure's all mine," Maka replied smoothly. "I'm sure you hear this all the time but your music has been an inspiration. Especially the way you stayed true to your emotions."

The inspiration part was a run-of-the-mill conversation starter with her, but Serena found the emotion comment new, that amused smile coming back to her face. "Music can be cathartic, or really, should be. I tried to do that even when Scott said the songs won't sell."

"I'd like to interject here that I wasn't wrong," Scott chimed. "But I never said they weren't beautiful."

"My husband, always by the numbers," Serena laughed before risking a glance at her son. He was wilting with the nervousness, the anticipation of the unearthed lie that he'd surprisingly told her about. "But I think we've taken too much of your time. This was supposed to be a business meeting but turned into a family gathering. Please accept my apology."

"Oh, no, it's fine," Maka stood slowly as Serena finally relinquished her hand.

"Soul, darling, see you next week. I feel like this visit gets you off the hook." She leaned in and kissed his cheek, regardless of the stiffness it elicited. It wasn't for the contact but the closeness, giving her the chance to whisper to him, "You'll be OK."

Soul covered it up quickly with a complaining, "Mom." He took a quick handshake from his dad, one that Maka followed.

"Thank you for your time," Maka tried to hold onto her convincing smile but it was waining at the thought of being back in the car with Soul.

"We'll be in touch," Scott smiled.

Whether or not that was a lie wasn't even the first thought in her mind, instead as they walked back through the oversized door, Maka's head was spinning with just _who_ he was. She couldn't get beyond the piano bench, that moment she'd played over and over in her head over the years set on another permanent loop. The walk down to the lobby was filled with the repeat of his lame jokes, the playfulness of his smile, and her own attempt to transcribe all of it over the Soul she'd spent the last few months with.

For Soul, walking to the car was like defusing a bomb, knowing that explosion was imminent and there was only one mysterious way to stop it from happening.

As soon as Soul slipped into the car after her, her hands flew up in the space between them. "I can't believe you kept that from me!"

"I'm sorry." That was him snipping the wrong wire, watching as the frown narrowed across her face.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Soul tried to hold up his hands in defense, "Look, it's not like I thought you were going to use me or anything, it's just-"

"Not that," Maka snapped. "Why didn't you tell me it was you at the piano?"

Any air sucked out of Soul's mouth as he felt the blood creeping up his neck. "That was…"

Maka's hands were no longer directed at him, now running through her hair as if to comb through all the information. "When I saw you, I knew you looked familiar, but I could have sworn you were blond, brown eyes, but that must have been the light, right? But Papa had said back then, 'Don't go near that Evans boy' and then your dad now with, 'Didn't you meet her before at that party?' I should have known!"

"Maka, I…"

Maka surprised him by reaching out and taking his hand, feeling the stiffness in his fingers. "Oh," it was a childish little howl. "Telling me was important, Soul! That moment, that night meant _everything_ to me."

The blood was in his cheeks now as his voice refused to sound.

"When I told you about it," she murmured. "I didn't exactly lie, but I didn't say that it wasn't just the fact I could laugh, it was… Soul, that was that last time I felt like anyone put my feelings before their own. That someone actually cared if I was hurt, or sad, or even if I was happy. And I held onto that, I used it to remind me that I could make it, that maybe I could feel like that again."

Soul broke one of the rules, his eyes fleeing to the back window before his voice would actually sound. Looking at her, hearing that and looking her in the eyes felt impossible, but the words were their own challenge. "I _do_ care. It's not just a memory. I want you to feel like that now, too." He quickly cleared his throat, trying to bury that with his next statement. "And it's not like I forgot."

The urge to cry was almost too strong but she squeezed his fingers instead, not having to really force a laugh after his last comment. "You better not have." _Stop breaking social rule number 10 and look at me, please, look at me._ Because did he even know how sweet he was? How that made her stomach flip for him to say it's not all the past, that all those little moments she'd been denying along the way with him was just a growth off of their first together.

"I didn't," he assured her again but kept his eyes on the movement behind them.

"Then why lie?" Maka tried to produce some kind of anger but there was too much of that stupid little joy bubbling around in her gut. "Or, I guess it was more of not telling me than telling me something different."

"Still pretty close to a lie," Soul sighed. "When you hear my name, Evans, you think of my dad, my mom, because their names are everywhere. More so my mom but with you in the industry, you'd know both, but you'd also know my brother, Wes." There was that stab in the gut like always and he wondered for a second if that would ever leave him if every time he said his brother's name it would feel like opening an old wound.

The name brought back headlines in her mind. Sure, she was in her teens, self-involved, but her father had made sure to show it to her, had gone to the funeral but refused to let Maka go, since youth shouldn't be so close to death even when the one in the casket was barely a man. _Drunk driver crashes into promising musician. Lost so young: the Evans' in mourning._ But she barely remembered Soul's name as an afterword in all of that, almost the fine print at the end of every article. His name was supposed to be forgotten, not tied to his brother's. "He died only a month after we met, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Soul managed to squeeze out. He was only able to turn his head back towards her because he brought his hand up to shield his eyes, feeling the liquid trying to seep from pressed lids. "And that…" _You can't tell her any of that shit,_ that little demon in him boomed. _She won't understand, she's not listening. You know what happens when you want, when you let people come close. All you're good for is pain._ "I tried to let it go," he murmured, an unsure breath rattling in his throat. "But I… I can't. That's why _it_ happened. That's why I…"

_Why he tried to kill himself, _she finished for him in her head but let her fingers stop his words as they moved from his hands to his cheeks, sneaking under his shielding hand to clear the liquid there. "Shh, it's OK."

It was strange the way her touch opened him up, made the words spill while the beast in him still objected. "I was like a doll for a while, mom and dad moving me from place to place, so filled with missing Wes that there wasn't room for _me_ anymore." Soul couldn't stop another wave of tears from welling up but she caught them, clearing them smoothly again. "Maybe it's not that much different from now," Soul choked.

"I think it is." Maka was on a tightrope without a net, sure that while he was speaking freely now she ran the risk of cutting him off with just a breath. "You move yourself. Some days are definitely harder than others but you still get yourself through."

"I wish it was more than just moving." He hated the whimpering quality of his voice but couldn't help the way her fingers refused to let him hold onto the self-loathing, one hand now moving through his hair to mimic his awkward way of comforting her.

Maka sighed softly, "Don't push it, OK? You're doing the best you can." _But there's more to it, isn't there? It's not just missing him, it's something else._ But that leap was too dangerous to take, especially looking at the tender redness around his eyes, the hitching tremble of each breath. "And coming with me today was pretty brave for someone with so many secrets."

Soul laughed bitterly. "Furthest thing from brave. I just…" He took a deep breath, finally letting his eyes fall to hers, seeing that smile wanted to break through the corner of her lips. "I didn't want to lose this, our friendship, over something like that."

_Our friendship._ Even that idea didn't diminish her smile but that confusion was bubbling in her gut again, fed by Liz's accusations. "I'm mad, but not that mad," Maka laughed, hoping that he realized that if there was anger it was dissipating quickly.

"Scale of one to ten?" Soul was just daring enough to grasp her hands from his face, gathering them between them on the seat. Her fingers busily wrapped around his as if they needed a purpose.

"Maybe a four," Maka sighed before looking down at their intertwined hands. _And I'll forgive it all if you just promise to keep opening these little doors one by one. _But the hypocritical nature of that thought made the words freeze in her throat. "Probably closer to a two."

Even with the relief drying away the rest of what he had left of tears, Soul could feel the shift in her, some thought taking her elsewhere. "Looked like at least a six right then," he prodded.

"No," she shook her head softly. "That wasn't you." Maka hated the way his eyes were searching her face, trying to find all those hidden compartments. "Stop worrying, OK? You're…" she sighed as her fingers clenched his tighter. "You're the best friend I have."


	11. Trust by Junny, punchnello

Black Star was feeling that tightness in his chest. It wasn't the heartburn from the pizza they'd inhaled or an early in life heart attack. It was Soul, sitting next to him on the couch, video game controller in hand and rapt look of concentration keeping those blood-red eyes opened wide. Black Star would never cry, that was for kids who skinned their knees or Tsubaki watching _The Notebook_, but damn had a part of him wanted to. _He's back, he's fucking back and I need it to stay this way._

Because a couple of months ago, this wouldn't have been possible. While Black Star was allowed entry, or sometimes forced entry, to Soul's apartment it was always to sit in mopey silence or just to compel Soul to perform one of the many social niceties that he'd forgotten. Instead, his best friend had texted him and asked him to kill this slow Thursday night in front of the console until Maka got out of class, allowing the three of them to maybe do some work. That thought was interrupted by the buzz of Soul's phone against the coffee table. Those previously focused eyes dropped to the screen for just a second, the quick ghost of a smile passing his lips before flattening back into a tight line.

"You gonna get that?" Black Star prodded, considering the half-smile that had almost broken through.

"I'm gonna beat your ass first," Soul muttered.

Soul should have known better, as Black Star was always the superior button-masher especially against an out of practice opponent. It didn't take long but Black Star didn't make any of his usual attempts to gloat, too interested in how quickly Soul dropped the controller without complaint and grabbed his phone. There was another piece of proof for Black Star, not just a specter smile but a lively smirk spreading across his best friend's face.

Black Star chewed on his tongue, considering his friend's expression for another fleeting second. "It's Maka, huh?"

"Yeah." Soul cleared his throat as he tried to do the same to the grin. "We're starting on that song you wanted to do tonight, remember?"

But the text on his screen had nothing to do with that since their texts now rarely veered towards business, instead, this was a quick, "_Save me some pizza!"_ in reply to his unnecessary update sent to her about the day Black Star and he had been having.

Soul could feel Black Star's stare and as he slowly finished texting her back a playful "_maybe"_ he finally raised his eyes. "What?"

Black Star shook his head as he sucked his teeth. "You like her."

"What?" Soul repeated as his palms broke into a sweat. "I mean, she's nice, so I like her, sure, I guess. We're friends. She said best friends-"

"No," Black Star pointed a finger to the corner of Soul's mouth, puncturing where the smile used to be. "You _like_ her. You're _interested_."

Like a broken record but this time with a scratch, Soul's voice rose, "What?"

"Don't lie," Black Star let out a short laugh. "You have her over like every day."

"We're working!" Soul had to rub his hands on his thighs, trying in vain to dissipate the moisture. "And most of the time she asks me, not like I'm running after her."

Black Star sunk an elbow in the back of the couch, leaning his head on his hand. "So, what you're saying is she _likes _you."

"No!" Soul moved one hand to his hair, pulling it back nervously as he tried to catch his breath. "She definitely can't, I mean, look at me. Half the time you have to tell me to shower and I haven't had a normal night's sleep in two fucking years and-"

"OK, OK, chill," Black Star sighed. "But you, Mr. Crazy-fucking-hot-mess, you _like _her."

"No," Soul groaned. He knew his bullshit was ineffectual, the tired look on Black Star's face proving he wasn't fooling anyone.

Worse yet, this stupid grin was spreading on Black Star's face. "Then you'll come to Kilik's party with me tomorrow night."

"No," Soul put up his hands in surrender. "No way."

"Yes way." The Cheshire cat's grin was smaller than the one on Black Star's face. "If you don't like her, then you'll come to this party. There'll be girls there, I can wingman."

"I _can't_," came with force and emphasis from Soul's mouth. The idea of all those people, people he probably didn't know, trying to talk to him, trying to touch him sent his heart thundering in his chest.

"If I beat you this round, you're going," Black Star crowed as he hit the continue button, laughing as Soul scrambled for the controller.

One game turned into too many, each a loss, and each closing with a fight between '_you will' _and '_I can't'_ until the click of the door froze Soul in terror. "Hey!" Maka's extra sweet voice filled the hallway and he could hear her taking her shoes off and dropping her bag.

"You're late!" Black Star yelled back as he instantly turned off the game, sure that Soul wasn't going to hold another second of interest in it.

"Sorry," Maka laughed in the face of Black Star's annoyance as she turned the corner. "It's not like you missed me anyway. You were too busy playing."

"Too busy beating Soul's ass you mean." Black Star motioned towards Soul who had opted for collapsing back on the couch his eyes staring up at the ceiling. "Which means he's going to tomorrow night's party with me."

Soul groaned in reply as he moved his eyes to Maka. "Please, can you tell him I can't go?"

"You think he'll listen to me?" Maka patted Soul's defeated head softly. "And maybe it would be good for you to try something a little more lively."

Soul grabbed at her wrist, trying to stop the motion. "Why are you on his side?"

"Because Maka knows I'm right," that slick smile broke Black Star's face. "You're going to go, maybe have a drink or two, hit on some girls, maybe even get kissed."

"I'm going to do exactly _none_ of that," Soul grumbled in Black Star's direction, missing as Maka struggled to keep her eyes from widening.

The playful amusement drained from her instantly and she had to force her smile to stay. She had not expected it to strike her right in the pit of her stomach, the imagery of his lips pressed against someone else's suddenly flooding every inch of her vision. By the time Soul brought his attention back to her, Maka had convinced herself that ache was anything other than jealousy. "Who knows," Maka's shoulders rolled weakly through a shrug. "There might be… I don't know, nice people there."

Soul narrowed his eyes at her, her lack of eloquence his first hint only accented by the flustered way she pulled her hand away from him. "Come with me," Soul murmured, reaching to retrieve the hand before it got too far. He stopped working on translating the look on her face, instantly now being able to read the fear.

"No," she shook her head firmly. "I don't go to parties."

"If it's about what Black Star said-"

"It's not," she cut him off sharply and he watched as her eyes went to Black Star with a strange pleading.

"Maka's not going," Black Star jumped in quickly. "It's just you, me, and a party full of eligible ladies."

"Don't let Tsubaki hear you say that," Maka murmured before she pulled away from both of them and disappeared into the hallway, her hard footsteps echoing down to the studio.

Soul grabbed Black Star before he could get a step away. "What was that?"

"Look, I didn't tell her your business, so I'm not going to blab." Black Star leaned a little closer, keeping the words between them. "But she's holding onto a big hurt there. Maybe you're going to have to tear it from her fingers piece by piece, and you'll probably piss her off in the process. Be ready for that."

Soul envisioned a red paper in her hand, tearing away tiny pieces that his fingers could get purchase on. "What?"

"Let's work on this fucking song," was Black Star's only answer as he disappeared after Maka.

Soul stood blinking for long enough to finish that mental picture, wondering if he could rearrange all the confetti pieces to understand her, to break through all the fear. He waited a few more breaths, hoping that Black Star was performing some sort of triage of his own in the studio. When Soul finally made his way there the two were sitting there quietly, Maka sprawled on the floor as usual while Black Star had dominated the couch. This was supposed to be nothing more than one of those preliminary meetings and the strange confrontation made it even vaguer, attention in the room swiftly lost for one drifting thought or another. Soul put together a general idea for the tune but squashed any talk of lyrics.

"It's late for you two," Soul mumbled. "Just go home, get some sleep. We'll start this again on Monday."

"And I'll see you tomorrow," Black Star grinned. "See ya, Maka." He took a second to stop and ruffle Maka's hair, a frown stretching across her face.

"Bye," she grumbled before starting to get up. "I'll just see you Monday."

Soul stood quickly and reached for her, watching with regret as her eyes went wide again, showing him another layer of fear. "Sorry."

"You just surprised me, that's all," she let out a trembling breath.

"No, I mean, yeah, I didn't mean to scare you, but for before." He slowed down his motion, forcing the gradual movement of his fingers, easing his hand into hers in a way that she could count the seconds between each action. "Will you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" She was breathless and everything in her just wanted to run.

"Something happened to you," he murmured before slowly squeezing her fingers. "It doesn't have to be the whole thing, just a piece."

_You told Liz you'd try. He's giving you the opportunity on a silver platter and all you want to do is scream at him, isn't it? But he's been vulnerable with you and you owe him at least an inch._ "A piece."

Soul nodded.

"That's how I met Liz and Black Star." Maka had to pause to swallow, a sudden dryness plaguing her mouth. "Something happened to me and Liz and Black Star, well, I guess the best way to say it is they saved me from it being worse than it was." Her skin was crawling and she tried to pull her hand away from him so she could rub the feeling out. Soul let her have it back, watching as she seemed to steal the action from his book, pressing harshly against the skin on her biceps as she held herself. "But I… it was my own fault," she groaned out, her hands moving from her arms to her face.

"Not sure I believe that part." Out of nowhere old Soul was there, that temperamental guard dog that barked at the first hint of danger. _Something hurt her, and I want to hurt it, or him._

"You don't know," she pleaded back.

"I won't until you tell me." His hands slowly moved to her elbows, letting his fingers light there first so she could know the touch was coming. He grasped her finally, pulling her a little closer. "Don't go home tonight. Stay."

"What?" Her hands instantly fell on his chest, keeping the space between them but not feeling him pull against it, leaving her no need to force him away.

His own forwardness left him blinking but he recovered with a deep breath. "You're not alright. I don't want you going home like that."

"And staying here is going to make me feel better?" Maka tried to breathe, tried to focus on this new bossiness, this intensity that was building behind his eyes.

"I don't know, but you know I'll try." Soul tried to smile a little but in the face of her blank lips, it wavered.

_You're jealous. Don't do this because you're jealous._ "What if I want the bed?"

"You always have the bed," a weak laugh left his lips.

_Don't do this._ "What if I want you to sleep next to me?"

He tried not to smile, tried not to let the excitement of the simple possibility of laying next to her overwhelm him. "If that's what you want."

_What if I kiss you? What if I get undressed and I slip between the sheets? What would you do? _But that anger sputtered out, watching him stand there quietly staring at her. "I just… I want to feel safe. Even if it's just for tonight, Soul."

"Then get your stuff." He slowly let her go, moving out of her way and into the hallway. He started what he was supposed to, brushing his teeth and staring at himself in the mirror as he heard her moving around, closing the bedroom door behind her to change. _She wants to feel safe. How do I do that?_ That was the repetitive question with each stroke of his brush. As Soul finished he passed her in the doorway, her hand gently smoothing across his chest as they switched.

Waiting in his room was agony, leaving him to pull back the sheets and stare at them, trying to find what would translate to safety. After an eternity she entered, her arms wrapping around herself as she stood in the doorway, throwing her bag to the side. "You don't have to," she murmured. _You want him to touch you, but you want it because you're afraid he's going to touch someone else, that if you don't give him this now… _

Soul reached out for her, fingers gently touching her forearm. "Do you want me to?"

"I…" All of it was yes and no, a teetering back and forth that tortured her.

"Just lay down." His fingers clenched around her thin wrist, pulling her forward and moving her towards the bed. Maka took the slow steps to the bedside, lowering herself down and scooting towards the other end. Soul watched her settle between the sheets before he sunk in next to her. When they slept together it was still separate, his side and hers with a tenuous border between them. He tried not to put a lot of thought into that as he moved closer, his hand gently coming to her shoulder first, again telling her he was there, a pattern that he was starting to follow with each touch. His hand drifted down her arm, following it to wrap around her, hand loosely touching her stomach. "Is this OK?"

"Yes." Maka didn't know if the urge to cry was the joy of finally feeling his touch or the heartache of that preemptive jealousy. She could make him lay with her here tonight but tomorrow he could still go out and kiss some other girl. But the alternative made her feel exactly like she was falling back into that pattern, going back to her old self. "Are you going to sleep alright?"

Soul's sigh was hot against the back of her neck, his mouth moving towards her ears. "If I'm with you, it's fine." That admission made his fingers tremble, no, all of him tremble against her and he held his breath for her reaction.

Maka slipped her hand over the top of his, lacing their fingers. "Good night."

He sighed, almost ready to say the same when the words from the depths of his mind slipped from his mouth. "I won't leave you unless you tell me to." He felt her stiffen against him so he squeezed, trying to press her back more comfortably into his chest. "The things that you tell me, the things that I tell you. Of course it all matters but it won't change the fact that I want to stay with you."

Maka's shoulders started to shiver as the tears silently moved down her cheeks. All he did was force her closer, arm now tight across her chest, anchored at her shoulder against the bed.


	12. LOVE? by ELO, Penomeco, Gray

I definitely said I might have to have a hiatus but here I am, posting anyway.

* * *

"You good?" Black Star let his eyes flick off the road for just a second to see Soul in the rearview as he lay in the backseat.

"Fine," Soul grumbled.

Black Star shook his head. "I get the backseat, but the laying down-"

"It's the way everything looks through the windshield," he sighed as he pressed his arm over his eyes. "Just add it to the fucking list of a million and ten social skills that I'm lacking."

"Why do you have a bug up your ass?" Black Star held up an accusing finger between the seats. "You better not act like this at the party. You're having fun."

"Because being ordered to have fun always makes it fun." Soul slapped the finger as it hovered too close. This whole day was boiling down to a shit-show even though it started in the euphoric bliss that was sleeping next to Maka. She even woke up second for once, allowing him an extra fifteen minutes of being cognizant of holding her, of thinking about the way she fit against him. But it was downhill from there, especially as she barely smiled through the morning, and while she did grab on to him before she left, a desperate kind of hug that stole his breath away, it came with little to no words.

"_I won't leave you unless you tell me to" _was what he had said but did that even give her an ounce of comfort? She just seemed to wake up more confused than before the sleep he had held her through and that was leaving him with a gnawing hole in his gut. The only dark words coming out of there was that he'd fucked it up again. Somehow, he'd pushed and he'd hurt her or hurt them. As he slid his arm back, bringing his hand to his face instead to try to rub away some of that panic he let the first whisper of it come to the front of his mind. _You don't just like her. It's more than that and that's dangerous._

"We're almost there," Black Star interrupted Soul's inner monologue and he welcomed it, letting the thoughts of this horrible party bring forth a panic he could at least manage.

"How long do I have to stay?"

Black Star sucked his teeth, "You are the worst."

"How long?" Soul repeated.

Black Star started the pull over to the curb, negotiating between two oversized, piece-of-garbage SUVs. "An hour. Then you can call a car and then call the girl you like to tell her what a shitty time you had at the party."

"I'm not going to call her," Soul grumbled.

"And by saying that you admit that you like her," Black Star chimed as he shut off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. He didn't skip a beat, just hopped out the car before opening Soul's door for him. "Again, you're going to have fun."

Soul rolled into a seated position, sliding out of the backseat. "And again, ordered fun is not fun."

Black Star considered slamming the door but waited for him to actually emerge before doing so, pushing the other boy up the lawn of the house. It was one of those squat, sprawling ranches in as much repair as a bunch of college kids could keep it. Black Star didn't bother to knock, just throwing open the door and announcing himself in the regular ear-splitting level. "Plebs, your God has arrived," he bellowed. "Gentleman, bow down, ladies worship from afar only please, I'm taken."

Soul rolled his eyes, at least happy to hear the last part. He never imagined Black Star settling down, but Tsubaki was a catch and while he talked a lot of game, Black Star was as loyal as they came.

"Soul _fucking_ Evans!" Kilik crowed, hopping off of his spot on the edge of the couch and hurrying over as quickly as his cool would let him. "Man, I haven't seen you for over a year! What's up?"

"Same as always." Soul reached out his hand, slapping at Kilik's in the elaborate handshake they had devised during high school. "Still playing guitar?"

"For now," Kilik grinned. "Been dabbling more with the bass, even some classical."

Soul let an old grin take his face. "You'll have to come by, let me sample some of it."

"So you're working?" Kilik raised an eyebrow as Black Star finally came back from his waltz around the room, throwing an arm around Kilik's shoulder.

"Our boy's pretty much back in business!" Black Star's cheesy grin stretched ear to ear.

For a second, Soul could actually believe that maybe this wasn't going to completely devolve into a calamitous evening, especially as he looked at the two grinning boys that brought flashbacks of high school, middle school, better times to his mind. But it was his name that came back to him, the fact that Kilik had announced it so freely because now there were eyes and people eager to make conversation with him or conversation about him. _Stop, let it go, you're having fun and no one's looking. They're drinking, dancing, making out, nothing that has to do with you._

"Good to hear, man," Kilik clapped Soul's shoulder, shaking him out of his panicked revelry.

"Let's get a drink!" Black Star released Kilik and spun Soul, driving him towards the kitchen. There were the usual punch bowls filled with assorted cheap liquors whose flavors were hidden by saccharine juices that were created from powdered mixes. Black Star wasn't about to listen to any excuses, and Soul could only exit the kitchen with a full cup in his hand. He always used the excuse about his meds, which wasn't entirely untrue. It wasn't suggested, and when you consider it's a cocktail of pills for anxiety, depression, and whatever else he was carrying drinking should probably be the furthest thing from his mind.

So he sipped slowly, wincing at the sweetness as he tried to grab a piece of wall and watch the crowd go by. He was successful in this for at least half of his allotted time, watching Black Star dance like a fool and catching Kilik for a short conversation as he revolved around the room. It was a split second that their eyes met, cool porcelain skin with bright blue hair and dark eyes but she still took it as an opportunity to walk over, taking up the neighboring section of the wall. "Soul, right?"

"Yeah," he croaked before taking another long sip of his quickly emptying drink.

"I'm Jenna," she smiled. "Kilik said you're a producer."

"Sometimes," Soul shrugged. "You sing, I'm going to guess."

"Right," she chimed. "How did you know?"

"You have the look." But his tone was lost since the comparison was. This girl couldn't see him comparing her to Maka, seeing the stereotypical all body no brain attempt at personality.

"Thanks," she pressed a strand of hair playfully behind her ear. "I haven't seen you at any of his parties before, though."

"Not a party kind of guy," Soul muttered.

"Then let me get you another drink." Jenna grabbed his cup from his hand, turning in a flash and disappearing.

He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes flitting across the room as he looked for Black Star. "Fuck."

"You're cute when you do that," she laughed, suddenly appearing back with two full cups. How many revolutions he'd gone through of hair tossing he couldn't count, but he was sure none of it could be described as cute.

"Thanks," his voice was blank and he took another gulp to fill it.

She filled the space in between his sips, Soul offering one-word answers to propel the conversation she was having. To make matters worse, she was edging closer, the gap between them diminishing with nowhere for him to go. It was her hand that froze him, placed softly on his chest. His first thought was of Maka, the way her hand fit better there. Her face was too close, her lips next to his ear whispering things and when he turned his head, tried to get the buzzing voice away her lips were only an inch or two from his.

"Hey!" Black Star's hand was suddenly over hers, peeling it from his shirt. "I'm cutting in. Come here, idiot." He continued to shimmy between the two of them, pushing Soul out of the interaction and away from the wall. "You're drunk," Black Star muttered as he finally got Soul moving through the party.

"I want to go home."

"Yeah, OK." Black Star planted a hand on the back of Soul's head, ruffling the hair as he pushed him through the front door. "Let me take you."

"No," Soul shook his head to toss off Black Star's hand. "You stay, I'll call a car."

Black Star tried to grab at his shoulder. "Come on, just-"

"Nah," Soul batted it away, planting his feet and slumping to the stoop of the house. "You go back in. I'll call for a car."

Black Star sighed, letting all the options for complaint and argument trail out of his mouth with it. He took a few tentative steps back, opening the door again. "Text me when you get home."

"Yeah," Soul waved him off. It was excruciating, thinking about how close that girl had come to kissing him. Normally it wouldn't matter, he'd kissed plenty before and done just about everything that didn't require getting naked, but that was… _That's something I only want her to do._ He dug his face into his hands for a moment, letting that thought echo before fishing his phone out of his pocket.

He held the phone tightly in his hand, more threatening to crush it than click on Maka's name. _Don't. There's no reason. You can call a car and they'll come get you or you can go back and grab Black Star. Just not her._ The inner monologue didn't matter since his finger tapped anyway and he drew the phone to his ear, listening to the ring.

Maka was slow to pick up, a little residue of sleep hanging on her words, "Hey. How's the party?"

He found his mouth gaping in reply.

"Soul? Did you butt-dial me or something?" She tried repeating his name a few more times before huffing, threatening to hang up.

"I want to go home," he finally croaked.

Maka was out of bed, the entire idea of sleep draining from her body. "What's wrong?"

"I just… I don't want to be here," he murmured back uselessly. "The people here, and there was this girl, she tried to kiss me, _touch_ me and I… this was a mistake."

There was a pause, such a length of time that Soul was worried she'd hung up. "A girl tried to kiss you?" Maka knew the answer, he's just explained it, and '_tried'_ should have been the keyword but she felt it, that twist in her gut. "I can… if you tell me where you are I can come get you."

"It's Kilik's. I'll text you the address." Soul gulped for air. "Maka, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she cooed softly. "I'll be there soon."

Maka didn't bother changing out of her pajamas, throwing a hoodie over her t-shirt to make wearing a bra not a necessity. Again, Spirit wasn't available for argument and she just snagged his keys and threw her purse over her shoulder before starting down the stairs. Her phone started to buzz again and she blinked at the screen before accepting the call. "Black Star?"

"Call Soul," it was barely audible over the party background.

"He just called me," Maka's heart was starting to pound, not entirely from the stairs. "I'm coming to get him. Did something else happen? Is he OK?"

A sharp laugh echoed in her ear. "He called you? OK, nevermind, then. Guess he's got his shit together anyway. Just come get him. I'm watching him from the window since he's being a huge baby and won't let me take him home, but it's kind of lame to stand with your back to the party."

Maka giggled back, "I'm going as fast as I can, just to save your party reputation."

"Thanks."

The phone clicked and Maka threw it back in her bag. Even with the call, it didn't dissipate her worry, still focused on the forlorn way he unfolded the night's events. All of that spurred her forward in double-time, making her way to the car and not exactly following the speed limit on the trip to Kilik's. She didn't necessarily need the directions, having been there once or twice and having that photographic kind of memory when it came to driving. Left at the red house that looked like it belonged in a snowglobe. Second right after the white house with the decapitated lawn-jockey. She pulled into the driveway, sure that boxing anyone in wouldn't be a problem since all she was doing was grabbing Soul.

Maka popped the car into park and jumped out, seeing his dark form bent over at the stoop. "Soul?" She was rushing, she knew it, running towards him like he was bleeding at the roadside.

"Maka." Getting up was a bit of a struggle and, even in the anxiety of the moment, Maka couldn't help but laugh at his wobble.

"Oh, no," she connected with him, steadying him as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "How much did you have to drink?"

"Too much," he muttered before throwing his arms around her shoulders. The hug was sloppy, more reliance on Maka for support even though the intention had been to comfort. "I'm sorry."

"Again, don't be." She pulled away but he kept himself balanced with his hands on her shoulders. "I'm… I'm kind of glad I got to see you again today. I think I was, I don't know, unfair this morning."

"No," Soul groaned. "No, I was weird last night and I shouldn't have bossed you around and I hurt you and I'm sorry."

Maka smiled at the ramble, one hand coming up to caress his cheek. "Last night you just did what I asked, right? You made me feel safe. Nothing weird about that. Let's just say I'm not exactly used to it so my behavior this morning was a little rusty."

"Maka…" Soul took an unsteady step forward. "It was really OK?"

"It was just right," she smiled softly. "But let's stop wasting time arguing about it out here. I want to be in bed and I think that's just where you need to be, too."

"That's where you are."

"Fuck," Soul muttered as he turned a slow head over his shoulder, seeing Jenna on the doorstep. "I'm going home." It sounded completely childish but his mind wasn't compelled to utter much more.

Maka peeped over his shoulder, setting eyes on a girl she didn't recognize but her mind definitely filled in the gap. "Was this the girl that was bothering you?" She didn't need an answer to that question and instead carefully moved Soul to the side.

"Bothering him?" the girl spat back. "We were having a conversation."

"Probably one-sided," Maka offered as she finally negotiated Soul behind her, feeling his hand clamp at the back of her sweatshirt.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Jenna scowled as she stepped off the stoop.

"Someone who knows better than to corner a man just to get a kiss." Maka felt his grip tighten and Soul tried to pull at her, fairly ineffectually in his not at all sober state.

"Excuse me?"

Regardless of Soul's resistance, Maka took another step forward. "There's nothing more disgusting than a person who will prey on another," Maka muttered. "He wasn't interested then, he's not interested now, and if you're planning on trying to do something to him you're going to have to go through me first."

The girl rolled her eyes and was about to open her mouth again when Maka took another step forward, her eyes widening not in surprise but as if begging for a reason. That was enough to get the girl to huff and turn away, the door to the party swallowing her back. "What was that?" Soul tugged at her shirt again.

"Just," Maka turned to him, her anger dissipating at the goofy smile on his face. It was half-drunk but also full of the elation of watching her fight for him. "She should have known better. You can look at someone, you can read their body language and know what they want and it's not fair to do the opposite." Her words came with a chill up her spine.

"Hey." His fingers crawled up her arms before pulling her to him again. He forced a little more equilibrium, making the contact finally more about holding her than keeping a drunk man on his feet. "Let's go home."

Maka took one more minute, one slow counted with the beat of his heart against her ear. A part of her never wanted to leave it since this was him choosing her, wasn't it? Tonight he had the option to be with any other person in the world but all he had done was come back to her. She forced that thought to disappear, tucking it away in the back of her heart before slipping out of his arms and leading him towards the car. She opened the passenger side door for him, starting the process of getting him in without boxing his ears on the doorframe. "Maka…" it was a weak protest and she ignored it, strapping him in before making sure all fingers and toes were in to close the door.

It started as soon as he sat down, the slow-wave of terror starting in his gut and inching to his chest. There was a sad attempt at logic, that he was just in a car, this was just any other night, and that this was with Maka, but he knew that none of that ever mattered. It was the same every time he sat in a passenger seat, suddenly feeling his mind starting to loop around the old memory, letting it repeat with no distinctive start or end. He was fifteen, that same mellowed feeling of alcohol in his bloodstream, the car an old antique his father and Wes had cleaned up together, a pet project that Soul had watched with half-boredom and half-wonder. He was in the passenger seat getting driven home from a party.

She slipped around to the driver's side, getting into the car quickly and throwing the car into reverse.

The movement of the view through the windshield jolted him back, and for a second he was in the newer car, the night brighter since this one had a fuller moon, and he could smell Maka's shampoo as her hair was struggling to dry in the bun she'd tied on the top of her head. But the real world was fading back and forth, edged out by his memory. It wasn't cloth beneath his fingers anymore, it was leather, and he could hear that song on the radio, a wordless distant melody held adrift in his mind.

Maka noticed the silence first and as she looked over at him to see his eyes clamped shut. "Do you feel sick?"

_Yes!_ Every inch of him was screaming but there wasn't enough air in his body to let any of it go as sound. The only thing he could do was wave weakly at her, trying to bat away the comment as he used his other hand to lower back the seat. He got it to recline, getting rid of the view of the front window that was still burned into his mind's eye. The darkness gave him a tenuous hold on reality and he tried to focus on her, the pieces that kept him in the here and now.

"Soul?" Maka stole another glance from the road to see him clenched against the seat that he'd lowered.

Soul thought it would be safe to open his eyes, especially as he turned his head to look at her but wasn't Maka. It was Wes, that lopsided smile on his face, his mouth moving wordlessly as a resounding static filled his ears. It covered the sickly groaning that erupted from his throat as the tears filled his eyes. He couldn't stop himself, his hand reaching out and grasping at the arm that he knew wasn't there, still finding skin underneath his fingers but knowing it couldn't possibly be real. But it was because Maka came back into view, her eyes darting between the road and him.

"Hey." Maka let him take her arm away from the steering wheel, feeling him clutch at the hand and press it against his eyes. She felt the liquid beneath her fingertips and had to resist the urge to look directly at him. "Soul, I'm going to pull over."

"No," he managed to moan. If they stopped now he'd never get back into the car, the back seat not even enough to stop the roll of his thoughts. "How much longer?"

"A few minutes," she whispered as she let her fingers move from clearing his eyes to pushing back his hair.

Again he tried to concentrate on her fingertips, the way they tugged at each root in that comforting sort of way but there was no soothing in it. _It's Maka. Not Wes. You're 21. Not 15. She's not going to die._ A fresh wave of tears came and he grabbed at her hand. _She's not going to die. She's not going to die. She's not going to die._ It rang in his head until the hard break tossed him a little, forcing him to open his eyes and feel the absence of motion. It was her face that came next, hovering over him as she uncomfortably tried to balance herself on the center armrest, getting just enough purchase to lean into him, her hands cupping his face. "Breath," Maka ordered.

Maybe that wasn't the easiest command when her face was only a few inches from his, her body starting to sink into him, but he forced a hitching breath.

"Again," she murmured.

It was another deep stuttering from his chest. "Maka…"

"Don't waste it on my name," she smiled softly. "One more." This breath came with fewer tremors, more just a residual tremble at the tail-end. "We're outside your building. Can I leave you on the stoop for a second while I park the car where I'm actually supposed to?"

He nodded slowly.

"OK. Just lay here for a second." Maka slowly slipped away from him, flopping back in her seat before opening the car door. Rushing wasn't necessary but she still felt it, that need to get him moving, get whatever this was out of his system. At first, she thought maybe it had been the alcohol, or maybe something that girl had even put in his drink but it seemed stranger than that, another remnant of something else entirely. She opened his car door and leaned in, grasping his shirt. "Time to get out."

Soul did most of the work but let her hands guide him. Out on solid ground, he could feel the tightness starting to edge away but his limbs trembled with fatigue. "I'm OK," he muttered, putting his hands over hers to disengage them.

"Don't lie to me," she whispered as she held the tension in her fingers, pulling him closer to the building. "Sit or stand?"

"Stand."

Maka pushed him up against the wall, finally starting to relax her fingers. "Stay put."

He huffed a sigh in reply, letting his head lean back into the bricks. The weak logical side of his brain was barely functioning, just sending him the soft whisper that she'd understand. Instead, the forefront of his mind was the new panic of how to explain another one of his idiosyncrasies. He watched her drive off while trying to formulate an excuse, something that wouldn't entirely be the truth. But wasn't he a hypocrite? Telling her to open up, to give a piece of herself while he held on to this. Granted, he could count the number of people who knew on one hand but was Maka that far from Black Star in his heart?

Maka finally jogged up, trying not to give away how out of breath she was, how she had sprinted while out of his line of sight. It was foolish, to worry so much but she could still feel the grip of his fingers in the car, that unearthly sound that trembled from his lips. "Come on." Maka took his hand, urging him off the wall and into the building. The walk was slow, Maka aiming not to have him tumble on the stairs and she stole his keys as soon as they got to the door. It was a pattern now, the way she let herself in, plopping her bag in the hallway and slipping off her shoes, and for a second she almost called out to him like she was just coming over. "Go get changed. I'll get you some water."

Soul did as ordered, starting as fast a walk down the hallway as he could manage. When he got to the bedroom, he locked the door behind him before he started to struggle out of his party clothes. He didn't have time but his mind still forced it, the momentary pause to touch at his chest, at his legs just below his boxers, to feel another wave of shame and hatred.

The knock at the door interrupted, then the rattle of the knob as she tried it. "Soul?" Even with the boundary, he could hear her panic.

"One more minute," he called back. This propelled him forward, throwing on the t-shirt and basketball shorts before unlocking the door. As soon as it clicked she was turning the knob, forcing the door open.

The paused at the threshold, her brow furrowed. "You locked the door."

"I…" Soul focused on the glass in her hand. "I can't get changed in front of other people."

It took a minute before her forehead unwrinkled, her hand moving the glass towards him with a sigh. "Drink this slowly, please. No puking."

Soul took the glass, freeing Maka to throw herself on the bed. "I'm sorry." He followed the words with a quick sip.

"That's three times," Maka wiggled her fingers at him. "And I still don't know why you're saying it." Before tumbling all the way back, Maka pulled her hoodie over her head, tossing it off the side of the bed.

"Maybe the fourth time with work," he attempted a grin, feeling it shake sickly along his lips.

"If you say it again, you're not allowed to sleep in the bed." Maka patted the space next to her. "Sit down, finish your water."

"I guess it's your turn to boss me around." Soul eased down on the bed, his back to her as he tried to slowly sip at the liquid.

Maka took that moment to examine herself, knowing he wasn't going to catch the way her eyes lingered over her wrinkled, oversized t-shirt that practically swallowed her shorts. Again that thought crept in on her, that he had chosen her. This night, the one she had spent the day terrorizing herself over, started and ended with her in his bed. _But it's not like that. Just best friends that share a bed, that comfort each other._ She smoothed a hand over her stomach, feeling the tightening flutter there. _A friend you want to kiss you._

Because that had been what had dominated Maka's thoughts after she'd left Soul this morning. It was the only thing that erased the idea of him kissing the millions of different kinds of girls she could imagine. She pictured him stopping her at the doorway before she left. Or maybe one night while they watched movies on the couch he'd tilt her chin as his head rested on his shoulder. Or now, before they drifted off into sleep, he'd plant a soft trail along her shoulder until she turned to him. It had become the millions of different ways they could kiss, but all of them just fantasy, bubbling thoughts that Maka popped with the sharpness of her doubt.

"You're quiet," he managed between a sip, throwing a glance over his shoulder after.

"I'm sleepy," she murmured before collapsing into the pillow to hide the blush she felt burning at her cheeks. "How much did you have to drink?"

Soul frowned at the memory, "Two cups of some horrible punch."

"So you did all the things on Black Star's list." Maka hated the way she sighed into the pillow, the way her legs wanted to kick like a tantruming child as she still battled against the jealousy.

"Just the first one," he grumbled. "I told you she _tried _and you said it yourself, she was the one doing the hitting. I just…" _I have you. I have this, whatever it is, and that feels like enough._

Maka waited for him to finish but he let the sentence die with the last gulp of his water. "Do you need more?"

"No," he muttered. "I want to sleep." Soul put the glass on the nightstand before easing back into the bed, instantly turning his head on the pillow so they were face to face, those green eyes watching him expectantly. "Maka, about the car…"

She pulled herself up on her elbow and used her other hand to push the hair back. All the courage she could muster only allowed her to press her lips to his forehead, exhaling what was supposed to be a playful laugh but sounded breathless. "Let's talk about that in the morning. Right now we both need sleep." The blush on his cheeks only spurred her to roll over faster as she tried not to feel that moment etching itself in her heart. As soon as she was on her side he was making that perfect glide again, that hand starting at her shoulder, moving down her arm and finishing around her waist to pull her closer.

Maka waited, feeling as his breathing slowed, the grip on her loosening. "Soul…"

There wasn't even a whimper in reply, just Soul's breath against the back of her neck.

She placed a soft hand over his, waiting again for any reply, any movement, and when there was none she sighed. "This is dangerous," she murmured. "Yesterday, I was jealous. When you mentioned another girl tonight, I got jealous. So jealous, even though I could tell you weren't interested. A part of my ego wants to be happy that it was me in your bed yesterday into this morning, that you called me tonight, that I'm in your bed now, but…" A thin line of tears started down her cheek, but she refused to take her hand off his to clear them. "What am I going to do to deserve you?"

The pillow soaked up the liquid as she turned her face, pressing it there to close in a sob. She waited for the choking sound to subside before she let a weak smile stretch across her face. "I'm trying to be something different, and right now, you feel so important in that. I need you not to know yet. I need you to stay with me a little longer."


	13. Problem by Jiselle, ph-1

Soul woke up with a dry smack of his lips, a healthy hangover clinging to the inside of his head. He rolled towards the wall and suddenly he remembered her there, lying next to him, murmuring things as he fell asleep. Not only had he been drunk, but he'd almost told her just as much as Black Star knew, a feat he never thought possible, though he still had time to back out. He didn't want to though, and that was terrifying, especially as he pulled the pillow from next to him, finding her scent lingering there, acknowledging what he already knew: she'd slept next to him again. _Again_.

He sighed into the pillow, taking one last pathetic moment to smell her before whispering into the fabric, "It's true." _But it's not happening. She's probably not even in the apartment. She probably high-tailed it as soon as it was safe to leave you._ It was a slow crawl to sitting, his head giving a decent throb but thankfully his stomach stayed put. It ached to get to his feet but he made it, slowly making it to the door and then plodding down the hallway. Even before he got there he heard the commotion in the kitchen, urging his feet forward. As soon as he reached the doorway, seeing her leaning against the island, all breath left his body.

"What's wrong?" She tilted her head at him, her hair cascading across her shoulder with the motion. "Did you forget I was here?"

"No," he could do nothing more than mumble weakly as his eyes lingered over her. _It's because you're beautiful. You just woke up, your hair's everywhere, your shirt is crooked, and it's so goddamn beautiful._

To make matters worse a smile broke across her lips, making his stomach flip. "Is this you hungover? And here I thought you couldn't get any more grumbly."

Soul ran a slow hand through his hair, forcing air out of his mouth to resemble a laugh. "Yeah, hungover, right. Sorry, I just…"

"You need coffee." Maka turned from him, showing off a fine shoulder blade that had peeked through the lopsided, oversized t-shirt as she reached into the cabinet and pulled out a cup. That's when he realized the coffee maker was on, full, and she was pouring euphoric-smelling liquid into the cup before turning to him and passing it off. "Sorry, always kind of make myself at home."

"That's OK," the words were almost as bliss-inducing as the first sip. _Home in my apartment. _He wanted to pinch into this thigh, to check the idiot smile that wanted to press across his lips. _Stop that right now. There's no way that's anything other than a pipe dream._ But he had to see the rationality of it all. This was the second night they'd gotten that close, and while it was still with clothes completely on he knew what her body felt like, how her skin felt under his fingertips, how her hair smelt and it was impossible that she didn't know the same about him. Weakly, somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a whisper, _What if there's a chance?_

Maka was leaning across the island, still with that angelic smile and a soft tilt to her head.

_If she listens, if she understands, there's a chance,_ came a little stronger this time as he took another sip, hoping that the bold liquid would give him the courage. "Last night," he started, watching as her smile faltered with concern. "I don't sit in the passenger seat, ever." He punctuated that with a sickly laugh as his eyes fell to focus on a spot on the counter, his finger rubbing at it. "Because I… fuck."

Her hand wrapped around his, "You don't have to give me the why if you don't want to."

"I want to," he urged back. "It just fucking sucks."

"Then give me your other hand, too." Maka slapped her hand across the table, waiting for him to take it.

With both hands in hers, he was able to smile for just a second before it broke under the weight of a deep breath. "I was in the passenger seat when Wes died." The words rushed from his lips like they were all one, toe to toe from his teeth.

Maka's fingers tightened around his as her mind raced over the news stories, the paper clippings that stuck to the back of her mind. Her first instinct almost shot from her mouth as '_are you sure?'_ but she swallowed it down. "Were you hurt?"

"A concussion," he croaked, feeling the coffee churn in his stomach. "The impact was on Wes's side so nothing happened to me but Wes…" _It wasn't like some movie where the blood spurted from his lips and he got those final words out but just watched him slip away. One minute he was breathing and the next it sputtered out. _He had never, ever vocalized that part, only in a cold, clinic office setting. Everyone else who knew, his mother, father, Black Star, all knew the implications of it but never heard the reality: that being in the car must have meant he'd seen it, but saying those words out loud somehow made it real, inescapable.

"But your name, all the articles said it was just your brother," Maka whispered.

Soul took a shaking breath, his eyes moving to examine her fingers, to try to find some kind of calm in the lines of her knuckles. "My parents paid good money for that. They thought it'd be easier for me if I was left out of it, especially since you know how rumors start… and I guess it was better that it didn't get out that I was drunk."

"You were 15," Maka breathed as if that made a difference.

Soul let the bitter laugh start on his lips. "The only reason I drank was to get Wes to come get me. It was stupid, so stupid because all I wanted was his attention and that was the way I thought I was going to get it. Get drunk because as soon as I did that he would worry." A swallow sandpapered down his throat, his eyes starting to blur as he stared at Maka's hands. "If I didn't do that, if I just let him stay home…"

"Soul-"

"No," he croaked. "If I didn't do that, he'd be alive. I killed him."

"The other driver killed him!" That brought their eyes to each other, the surprise of Maka's volume shaking them both. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't yell, but it's not fair, Soul. It's not fair to do that to yourself."

Another rueful laugh escaped him as his eyes dropped to their hands again. "I know. The rational side of my brain knows but the other side just won't listen. I killed him, I should be dead instead of him, nothing I do will ever amount to what he could have been, and every time my parents look at me those are the only thoughts in their minds."

"Oh, Soul," it mournfully rang from her throat. Much to his dismay, she removed her hands but only to move forward and throw her arms around his neck. "Don't believe that."

"I'm trying not to." He let her sink into him but hesitated to wrap his arms around her, clutching at the t-shirt at her sides instead. "Some days it's easier than others. But that used to be all I thought about."

Maka clutched him tighter as she let out a long sigh, unsure of her next handful of words. "It makes sense then, what you tried to do." She parted from him quickly, the words feeling all wrong and hoping that her eyes would give a clearer message. _I'm trying to understand. _As she grasped him by the shoulders, she gave him a little shake to bring his eyes back to hers. "I'm not saying that it's OK, that I ever want you to do that again, but I guess I get how hard it can be not to give in, to listen to that other voice."

_There's a chance._ "Maka…" his fingers trembled as he raised his hand, letting it touch her cheek. Even with the slowness of his touch, he saw the hint of the flash in her eyes, the millisecond of fear that always accompanied any touch. He felt his hold on that other voice fizzling, the hope tarnished by another one of those reactions. "There's only one more thing I haven't told you, but I'm not ready to yet. I don't know… being ready for that might take a lot."

_There's so much I haven't told you._ Maka felt her eyes echoing his, rims filled with tears suddenly and with as much control as the storm in her heart. "You can tell me whenever you're ready. I… Soul, I won't leave you either. You know that, right?"

"I know," he murmured. It was slow, but he let his hand fall from her face, grasping at Maka to pull her back into a tight hug, his arms now finally circling her waist. That rationality was tugging at him again, murmuring her words that mirrored his, but he still couldn't erase the memory of the millions of little looks of fear that so often reflected in her eyes.

* * *

Maka had called an hour ago and convinced him she needed to come over with Black Star. He'd almost forgotten about the song all together, but it was work, something he was supposed to be doing with her, not this back and forth torture with his heart. _It's my own damn fault, giving her all my secrets, letting her in so close that now it's impossible to deny that I want this to change._ He sat on that thought until he heard Black Star's key in the door, catapulting himself to look busy at the piano.

It was Black Star's stupid grin that made his stomach clench, especially juxtapositioned with Maka's flighty face. _Cat that got the canary,_ Soul grumbled in his head, sending a skeptical glance in Black Star's direction. All he got in reply was a bigger grin.

"I need to go to work in a little bit," those words melded together in fast succession as she riffled through her bag, eyes focused on finding the paper. "But I started some lyrics and wanted to get to the point where you two could get the rap line."

"OK…" Soul waited for her eyes but they didn't appear, focused again on the paper. He caught a snicker from Black Star but still only found that dumb smile on his face that he was starting to want to punch off.

Maka cleared her throat as her fingers clenched into the edges of the paper. "Can you play it from the top?"

"From the top," Soul echoed as he turned back to his system, pressing play on the start of the track. He'd worked on it for a while, especially on the nights that Maka didn't stay, his sleep still thin and inconsistent, and it was mostly layered and complete, just in need of their words.

"_There's a problem, I can't stop, You're the one that I can't stop thinking of…"_

Soul's mind flashed back to the first time he'd watched her sing, the way he'd known the words didn't come from her and instead were just created to sell. This wasn't anything like this, her eyes open with half of a smile pulling at the corner of her lips as her hand rubbed against her pant leg as if to wipe away a sweaty palm. _She's nervous. She's never nervous._ He wanted to get up and touch her, to ease her into telling him what was going on but she just kept belting away, hitting what could only be a chorus.

"_You're my problem, I can't explain it, you're wasting time, I should make you mine, I don't think you know the answer, you're my, you're my problem…" _Maka abruptly dropped the paper to her lap, her face starting to flush. "I have the rest but I think this is where Black Star should come in." She shuffled to her feet, throwing her bag over her shoulder again but holding the paper out shakily to Soul whose eyebrows couldn't get more furrowed.

"OK," he elongated the vowel as he took the paper from her. "Maka-"

"I should go," Maka murmured quickly, already trying for the door.

It was Black Star's hand that stopped her, just tapping at her arm lightly as if he knew the technique Soul had worked towards. "Before you go. Finals next week, we all should be done by next Monday and Patty and Kid should be home by then. So party at Soul's, OK? Nothing big, nothing crazy, just us high school kids and you, since you're going to come to this one."

"Here?" Soul started to gripe but Black Star jumped right back in.

"No, at your house. Serena's idea."

_Great, now my mother's planning parties for me_. He had flashbacks to five-year-old birthday functions as a sigh parted his lips. "When were you talking to my mother?"

"I talk to her every week," he snapped back matter-of-factly. "And you're getting away from the point! Maka, you're in, right?" Black Star sealed a hand over Soul's mouth for good measure, never sure when that protective side of him was coming back.

Maka wrapped her arms around herself, eyes stuck on Black Star. "It's just going to be you guys?"

"The old high school crew, me, Liz, Patty, Kid, Kilik. Maybe our other friend Kim, but I don't know if she'll be home yet. She's flakey as fuck about texting back," Black Star bemoaned.

"But I'm, well, I only know you three," Maka offered weakly.

"And you'll meet the rest there. You're going, right?"

Maka's eyes finally met Soul's as she pressed her lips together in a tight line before letting the word weakly pass her lips. "OK."

"Cool. Later." Black Star shooed her along which didn't take much effort on his part, Maka already seeming intent on leaving.

With withering patience, Soul waited until Black Star released his mouth after the front door slammed. "What the fuck was that about? A party? And what was up with your stupid face? And Maka? What happened?"

Black Star waved his hands in surrender. "One question at a time!"

"First, you scheduled a party with my mom?" Soul was already rubbing nervously at his thighs.

"Actually, that should be your last question." Black Star threw himself onto the couch, cringing as it groaned from the activity. "Ask me about my stupid face first, then the Maka thing."

"If you have an order just answer it, damnit!" Soul picked up the nearest thing he could chuck, an empty box of cookies, and sent it ineffectually flying towards Black Star.

He easily batted away the box with his foot as he let that grin break his face again. "I read those lyrics on the way over here."

"What about them?" Soul spat back, seeing no connection and finding his patience for the game wearing thin.

Black Star relaxed back, throwing his hands behind his head as he stretched out. "Maybe you've been out of school too long since your reading comp sucks. Look at them again."

"I don't have to," he muttered as he whipped the paper. "It's just one of those in-love songs. So why is that making you smile like a loon and leaving Maka weird, nervous?"

"Yes, Maka Albarn has written an in-love song," Black Star nodded while he raised an eyebrow. "So…"

Soul threw his hands up in the air in pure exasperation. "So?"

"You're fucking dense." Black Star erupted into laughter as Soul popped out of his seat, throwing the lyrics to the laptop before starting an agitated pacing almost at tempo with Black Star's laugh. "Is that getting the blood moving in your brain?"

Soul stopped, hand reaching out as he imagined strangling his best friend for a second. "Are you trying to say Maka's in love?" He tried not to have that turn into a desperate cry but he felt his teeth clack together at the end.

"Hell yeah, she is." Black Star gave up on reclining so he could get the perfect pose, sending finger guns in Soul's direction.

Soul was about to scream, curse until Black Star finished his ridiculous movement. "Are you…? You mean, you think she's in love with _me_?"

Black Star started counting out on his fingers. "One, she couldn't wait to sing that fucking thing for you. Practically dragged me here, but two, she _was_ nervous as fuck. Three, don't think I've fucking forgotten that _you sleep in the same bed on a regular basis._"

"I told you about one time," Soul's voice hit an unheard octave, his face turning red.

"And Maka told Liz about all the others and Liz can't keep her mouth shut," Black Star shrugged. "Is that not enough to convince you?"

"Convince me of what?" Soul tried to back peddle, his mind racing at the words existing outside his own head. He had told himself it was a chance, a tiny, minuscule, practically impossible chance but to hear Black Star say it fed that hope.

"Dude, she's completely into you." Black Star abandoned his counting to cradle his head again, leaning back into the couch. "And you've been playing this game of chicken with each other for over six months."

Soul ran his fingers through his hair and he plopped back into his seat. "I'm not playing a game."

"That's good," Black Star sighed. "Last thing she needs is games. So when are you going to kiss her?"

There was no stopping the bright blush crawling from his throat to his cheeks. "She doesn't-"

"No, no, no," Black Star practically screamed, throwing the cookie box back in his direction and feeling cheated as it thunked sadly to the floor by Soul's feet. "If you're going to try to give me some bullshit that she doesn't want you like that, we're going to fight. I mean it. Throw hands."

Soul let his hands rub back down, cradling his cheeks as he looked at his feet. "If I had the fucking guts I would have done it already."

"Not necessarily," Black Star shrugged. "You just need two things: the knowledge, since you overthink every little thing, and the right location, the party at your house."

"Sure, great, kiss her in front of a bunch of people," Soul muttered.

"Dude, even I'm more romantic than that," Black Star rolled his eyes. "Just get her alone. End of the night after you've been the ridiculous lovesick fool that you've been for the past few months, walk her out into the yard. Take her under that stupid tree you like so much and just let it happen."

Soul groaned, throwing himself back in the chair so his new view was the ceiling. "Why can't she just kiss me? If she likes me so much like you said, why-"

"If you haven't gotten the fact that you have to set the physical pace for her then you're stupid," Black Star's tone dropped, his grin deflating.

Soul paused, his eyes slowly coming from the ceiling to Black Star's. "_Someone_ hurt her."

"Yeah," Black Star croaked. "And don't worry, I kicked the shit out of him, but I don't think he was the only one, you know? I think she needed us years ago. Like if the two of you could have just stuck together on that piano bench both of you would have been fine. We all could have protected each other."

_It's a fantasy, right? This idea that if we'd been together from fifteen we'd be stronger, safer, all of this wouldn't have happened. Life probably still would have been hard but we would have each other._ Soul sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Thanks for fucking him up."

Black Star raised an eyebrow. "Oh, there's protective Soul. You've been feeling that, huh? Wanting to wring his neck?"

The words welled up in his throat, his chest tightening around them. "I won't let anyone hurt her again."

"Then give her that damn smooch." Black Star pressed together his lips, giving them a smack. "Let her know that this isn't you just playing friends."

All the moments fluttered across his mind, the many times their fingers locked together or the way waking up next to her left him with such a residual calm that most days actually felt bearable, the dates that they'd never called dates. "I'll try."


	14. Aura by Junny, ph-1

I promise there's more to the party section. Just be patient.

* * *

Maka barely got out of the building before she pressed the call button, putting the phone to her ear and waiting with absolutely no patience, her stomach churning with each sound.

"Hey," Liz sounded only half present but Maka was sure she was about to rally.

"I'm going to a party," Maka moaned as she continued hustling down the street, trying to put distance between her and the boys as if that would help the butterflies in her gut.

"What?" There she was, fully alive now with enough energy to run a marathon.

"And what's worse," Maka continued without touching Liz's shock, "is that I sang that stupid song for him, Liz. Black Star convinced me to do it and I don't know what I was thinking."

"The song's _whatever_," Liz snapped. "If he doesn't know you're crazy about him by now he's an idiot, but what party? What are you talking about?"

"Black Star is making Soul have one at his parent's house." This was filled less with complaint than breathlessness. Maka tried to blame it on the walking speed but that was absurd, the windedness from the idea of her actually wanting to be there. This hadn't ever been a feeling churned up by that kind of event but the idea that it would be with him, it would be only with a group that she really shouldn't have access to was breeding a strange mixture of yearning and anxiety.

"Oh," Liz put the breaks on her worry. "It's just going to be us, then?"

"Your old high school crew," Maka corrected.

Liz hummed thoughtfully into the phone. "And he asked you to be there?"

"Technically, Black Star did, but I think that was because I'd already bewildered him with that stupid song." Maka stopped right in front of the shop, looking expectantly through the windows at the people meandering around inside.

"So you wrote him a love song, Maka. It's no big deal." Liz expelled a sigh over the line. "Plus, you just need to face it. You want something more than what it's been. It's OK to ask for that."

"But, I…" Maka pressed a finger to the glass, watching the unfortunate smudge that Andre, her manager, would probably have something to say about later. "I'm going to have to tell him about the party. About me before that can happen."

"Maybe," Liz chewed at her lip. "I mean, that's been coming slowly, right? You said you would try."

Maka knew better than to lie and the step she had made felt so insignificant it was almost impossible to add any emphasis. "I told him something happened that night. I didn't tell him what."

"OK," Liz sighed. "But have you thought about just having a romantic, not so tumultuous evening with him?"

"I mean, some nights we just lay on the couch or we go out to eat, it's not like every night I'm crying about my past or his," she grumbled.

"While that's cute, there's no romance. There's this thing called kissing, I don't know if you've heard of it-"

"Elizabeth," Maka groaned.

"Maka," Liz echoed. "This party can be your excuse. No drama, no sadness, just making out at the appropriate time."

Maka turned from the window, hopefully hiding the rising blush on her cheeks from any of the regulars on the other side. "I have to go to work," she murmured.

"Trying to change the subject," Liz chimed. "Just kiss him, or at least give him some kind of OK for him to kiss you. He knows something's up, he knows you're hesitant, so he's going to be extra gentle."

"What, am I supposed to wear a t-shirt that says, 'Soul, please kiss me?'" Maka griped back, her hand running through her hair.

"Wouldn't hurt."

* * *

It was a relief that Soul brought her there first, not allowing for the awkward moment of arriving on her own. It still felt very much like a Black Star party, him opening the door to Soul's own house, having gotten there first to iron out logistics with Soul's parents. Serena and Scott were nowhere to be found, another source of short-lived social reprieve. The first thing on the menu, as always, was a beer, thankfully not one of those cups of unidentifiable liquid since Black Star had standards. Maka watched as Soul nodded off the beer, instead sinking to his knees at the bar to clink around the bottles.

Maka tentatively sipped at her beer, adding to the wave of slowly rising panic. _Party, alcohol, you're here with someone._ It sent a chill up her spine but she tried to swallow it down, leaning down to examine his work. "Are you going to fill it with water afterward?"

Soul chuckled as he lifted his eyes from the bottles to her, giving her an ever-strengthening grin. "Dad won't miss it. He really only has drinks for guests. Mom prefers wine."

She poked at the corner of his mouth. "I think this suits you."

He batted away her hand playfully, hiding the blush on his cheeks from her touch by sticking his head back in the bar, finally coming across the treasure he was looking for. He stood slowly, putting the bottle on the counter as he grabbed one of the highball glasses and poured himself as much as he should drink. Maka wrinkled her nose as he passed the glass under it. "You don't know what you're missing," he gave in to her, letting her have more of that smile.

Maka took a seat on the couch, Soul opting to lean against the arm. Black Star was still flitting around, taking a second or two to pinch Tsubaki's ass before disappearing to the door or the kitchen as people started to filter in. It was Kilik first, still the same excitement as the last time, Soul's middle name officially changed to _fucking_. "Kilik, this is Maka."

"We met, I think. Once or twice, but hey, Kilik." He extended a hand to give Maka a quick shake.

"You're right, but just for a second, parties, you know." She tried to roll her shoulders to dissipate that continued tightness before opting for another sip of her beer.

Kilik's attention was suddenly grabbed by Black Star, pulled towards the sound system and giving Soul the opportunity to reach for her. He played it safe, one finger just caressing her hand gripping the beer bottle tightly. "Before you said you didn't know any of them. You said you knew the three of us and that was it."

Maka watched as his finger moved, gliding to her wrist. "We've met, but they don't know me. And most of them met the me from last year and that's not-"

"Don't worry about it," he murmured. "This can be their chance to get to know you then. Especially since, well, you said you're staying. If you're with me you're kind of stuck with them." Soul managed to produce something close to a laugh, the weight of '_with me'_ practically making it crumble. _I must sound so pushy, out of nowhere, like we're together, like I just decided-_

The thought was cut off by her grabbing that traveling finger, wrapping it up with hers. "Then keep introducing me. I promise I'll be on my best behavior."

His face lit on fire just in time for a pink-haired girl with bright blue eyes to throw her arms around Soul's neck, hanging on for dear life as she pressed her cheek against his. "Soul," she cooed.

"Hey," Soul laughed as he took his hand back from Maka to try to peel away the girl's grip to no avail. "Maka, this is Kim."

"We've met," Kim chirped. "Girls' night a million years ago, before the start of this year. But I guess you two know each other now…?" She raised her eyebrows playfully before Soul finally managed to pry her free.

"What are you insinuating, Kim?" Soul grinned at her. "You know my heart belongs to you."

Maka's own heart suddenly thundered in her ears, convulsing between the playful banter and the grin on his face. Kim was quite the opposite, eyes rolling, "You're full of shit. We hooked up for like two months and you were the one to end it in the first place!"

"And then you found out you like girls. What does that say about me?" Soul offered a wilting shrug.

"Nothing, especially since I like _both_," she corrected, turning her attention towards Maka. "And don't think it's about him because, honestly, he can make you cum faster than-"

Soul let out a cough of air only remotely resembling a laugh as he clamped a hand over Kim's mouth. "Seriously, Kim!"

Kim pried his fingers away, "What? We're not bragging about that anymore?"

"We never were," Soul hissed, feeling the color come to his cheeks. Even with the buzz, he didn't have the nerve to look Maka in the face.

"You would think that's what he'd start out with when he introduces himself," Maka managed, finally feeling like she could breathe again. _It's old news, if it ever was news in the first place. But look at you still getting jealous! _

"Nah, Soul's not that cringy." Kim ruffled Soul's hair. "It's good to see you, though. And not looking like shit."

"Thanks," Soul gave a short laugh. "How was school as far away from the rest of us as possible?"

She snorted a laugh back. "Try to sound more melodramatic. I didn't miss you if that's what you're asking. I made new friends. So many new friends. Really, just the most popular girl on campus."

Soul rolled his eyes as he translated, "In other words, you stayed locked up in your dorm and maybe actually got good grades for once since you had all the time to study?"

"Nope," she chimed. "I worked, an internship. Made shit money, but better than nothing."

Maka tried to wheedle into the conversation, thankfully finding Kim's attention as soon as she opened her mouth. "Where were you interning?"

"Accountant's office," Kim sighed. "Nothing exciting."

"Should have known it was money," Soul teased.

"That's why I was after you in the first place, Evans," she cooed back, giving him a light tap on the cheek.

"You break my heart," he gave the best forlorn sigh he could but it tumbled into a laugh.

"Ridiculous," she rolled her eyes before letting her attention be torn away by the rest of the party. Although, she made sure to give Maka a wink before turning away.

"So you met Kim before?" Soul could still barely look her in the face, even with the cooling of the conversation.

"Just that one time, just before school started last year." Maka focused on swirling the liquid in her bottle. "But she didn't tell me that you two were…"

"It was, uh…" Soul rolled his shoulders, trying to eke out the uncomfortable feeling. "I guess the best way to put it was we were both trying to just escape. Needed some kind of diversion. In the end, we were always just friends." He laughed to himself, pressing a hand against his mouth before releasing it to uncover a smile. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"That makes it impossible," Maka grinned back.

Soul shook his head slowly but couldn't shake off the grin, fed by the boldness that was slowly growing in him as the night was progressing. "I know, but if you laugh I might just die of embarrassment."

"Alright, OK," Maka clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to stop the inevitable.

"It almost didn't happen because, well…" Soul locked eyes with her and she saw the thin line of blush tainting his cheeks. "Because for a while there I was still hung up on you."

There wasn't a laugh to be had, Maka just blinking as her hand fell away from her mouth. "Me?"

"I kind of held on to that night at the piano for a while. Did a lot of wishful thinking, even after Wes, and…" Soul trailed off, letting a hand comb through his hair. "But that's what teenagers do, right? Brood over what they can't have."

Maka's stomach wouldn't hold still, fluttering nervously. "You thought about me?"

"I told you before, I didn't forget." Soul reached out hesitantly, fingertips just trailing her arm and moving to her hand, taking it in his again. "I-"

"Soul, let's go." Black Star grabbed him by the shoulders. "Kid's here, so it's time for the music to start!"

"Don't I get to say hi to him first?" Soul groaned and his hand was out of hers again, fighting with this new grip.

Maka couldn't concentrate, not on that, her mind flooded with the possibilities of what was going to come after that '_I.'_ _Don't be ridiculous, it could have been 'I just was a little foolish back then, obsessing over a girl I only met for ten to fifteen minutes.' Because we were nothing, it was just a kiss, not even on the lips, and I wasn't important._ She tried to mirror the apologetic smile she was getting from Soul who was being tugged away. _But what if he feels the same way you did? Like there was some strange, cosmic connection there? Like the two of you were meant for each other, whether it was this world or the next or all that fate and chance?_

"Maka?" Liz patted her shoulder.

"Sorry," Maka snapped out of the panicked trance. "What are they doing?"

Liz sighed with a roll of her eyes, starting to push Maka over on the couch. "What these dummies always do when they get together and get drunk. Sing. Like fools. Almost like an idiot boy band."

That was enough to bring a smile to her lips, maybe even a laugh to part it. "Is Soul going to sing?"

"Probably not," Liz smirked. "He does draw the line there usually. You've heard him rap, right? The sad mumble?"

Liz practically sat on top of her, only amplifying the disapproving look from Maka, "It's not that bad."

"Oh, you are in love with him if you think that's '_not that bad.'_" Liz snorted as she threw an arm around Maka.

"You're in love with somebody?" Patty suddenly popped in, her face appearing between Liz and Maka over the back of the couch.

Maka jumped, trying to cradle her beer in an attempt not to shoot it around the room. "I'm-"

"Soul," Liz refused to allow the avoidance.

"Liz," Maka hissed.

Patty made a low whistle before abusing the length of the vowel as she cooed, "Cute!"

Maka put a useless hand to her cheek, trying to make the color behind it disappear. The boys were arranging themselves in front of the fireplace, Soul sitting on the edge with a small keyboard balanced on his legs. She was noticing that the smile here came easy, effortless, and he was looking up at Black Star with a beautiful kind of loving annoyance. Kilik plopped next to him, a guitar in hand and they started to strategize between strums and notes.

It was her first time ever seeing Kid, a tall, thin boy with oddly striped hair. She imagined the dye job must be a bitch. The first time she had met Patty she'd heard he was quirky in an adorable kind of way, but Liz had corrected it to certifiable OCD, all cuteness aside. "Ladies, requests?" he opened the floor, leaving Kilik and Soul to eyeroll in sync.

"Since Kid is here I have the perfect idea," Liz nudged at Patty before belting out, "The mystery girl song!"

The color instantly flashed up Soul's cheeks before he managed to squeak out, "That's so old."

"Yeah," Liz was smirking ear to ear, "Which is why I definitely want to hear it again. It's been a while."

"I still remember it," Kid shrugged much to Soul's dismay.

Black Star was suddenly behind Soul, arms flinging around his neck. "And we both know you remember it for sure, don't you?"

Soul grumbled something unintelligibly.

Kim leaned in over the back of the couch, nudging Liz. "I don't remember this one."

"Yes, you do," Liz corrected. "Remember that girl he crushed over? The one at the piano bench?"

Maka immediately froze up, her cheeks mimicking Soul's with a splash of color.

"Oh," Kim stretched out the word. "This one is cute. Let's go, Soul! Make it snappy."

Soul threw off Black Star's arms before taking another exuberant sip of his drink that made his eyes water. "It's going to be terrible." He fished out his phone, scrolling through the old playlists of saved files before finding the mix and balancing the phone on the edge of the keyboard.

"Stop complaining," Liz snapped.

He pressed play, fingers moving towards the keys in anticipation of his part.

Even with the words coming from Kid's mouth, Maka found herself unable to take her eyes off of Soul, fed by the reality that each one of these words was from him. _About a mystery girl who's not a mystery to me._

"_Feel like I'm wasting time trying to find where you are, I know but girl I want you…" _Kid wasn't great at playing the crowd but at least his voice was charming enough. "_All that's left is your aura, oh, girl, you got me chasin' now."_

Liz started to elbow her, "Get ready."

Maka blinked at her until she heard Soul's voice. It wasn't a mumble, not that dark sadness but a smooth flow. "_I wish I had a superpower, set the timing right back. It's ridiculous to miss you in front of me. I can't concentrate ever since that day."_ It was surreal, the way he didn't miss a beat with the piano as the words just spilled from his mouth, but by the end he seemed out of breath, the color still clinging to his throat. Soul was thankful he'd gotten through the entire thing, especially since with the amount of time it'd been since he'd performed he should have lost at least some of the words. _Not to mention she's actually fucking listening._ He managed to sum up enough courage to raise his eyes from the piano to her.

Her face was nothing but a reward to him, not some awkward stare but a glowing smile radiating off her face. _So, Soul writes love songs._ She couldn't add the '_about you'_ part yet, letting it still sit in the back of her mind.

Some of the color was fading away from his face, the embarrassment abating as he let it all sink in. _She knows, she has to know it's about her and her only reply is that smile. A beautiful fucking smile. And I know you want to lie to yourself, say she doesn't, but, fuck, it's impossible to say what you're feeling isn't mutual._ He let one of those pathetic, lovesick sighs pass his lips, a strange process that he hadn't experienced since probably minutes after her lips on his cheek years ago. But that feeling would have to wait, especially as just as his old song came to a close the next almost immediately started up, the same old pattern that used to fill their get-togethers. Soul tried to be better about stealing glances but found that she was only a second away from looking at him every time he focused on her.

"You two are disgusting," Black Star whispered in his ear.

"Shut up," Soul grumbled, trying to wipe away the smile as he concentrated on the keys.

Black Star took the chance and pinched Soul's cheek. "One more song and I'll break it up. You take her outside."

Soul's hard swallow bobbed in his throat comically. It was one thing to fill his mind with the idea that at the very least they liked each other but it was another to think about the next step. He couldn't deal with a hook-up, it would have to be a boyfriend, girlfriend thing and would he have to bring that up tonight if he did kiss her? And kissing. Damn it, did he ever want to, especially when he thought about the curve of her smile, the way it would feel to capture that between his lips, but everyone knows what kissing leads to. How long could he keep her at bay? Hold on to the one last little secret?

"Break time!" Black Star's shout cut through the music. "I need a new drink and Kim, you need to scrounge around this house for a second guitar…" He did his best to disperse the crowd, to get the focus to dwindle away from the show.

Maka stood up quickly but forced herself to move over to him slowly, that absurd grin still on her face. Soul put the keyboard aside just in time to stand to meet her. "Is there an actual name or did you title it the mystery girl song?"

Soul coughed out a laugh. "It's '_Aura'_ but please, remember, I was like fifteen when I wrote it."

"It was great." She moved a step closer, her hand hesitantly coming to his chest. "You're really, I don't know, different tonight."

"Bad different?" He had to hold his breath as he slipped his hand over hers.

"Absolute opposite," Maka laughed. "You're really happy, comfortable. It's nice to see."

"But I'm," he choked out a sigh. "I'm like that with you, too. I feel that way with you."

Maka crinkled his shirt in her fingers. "I know. When you're on the couch, when you're in your pajamas in bed, but it's nice to see it when you're surrounded by people. When you're the center of attention."

Soul let out a long, quivering sigh. "Do you… you want to get some air with me?"

"Yes, let's get you out of the center of attention." She laughed as she relaxed her grip, finding that he refused to let her hand get away, holding it at his side instead.

Soul pulled her to the sliding glass doors, opening one and letting them out into the summer air. The backyard was designed more like one of those botanical gardens than a lawn, the night air full to the brim with the heady notes of flowers in full bloom. "Oh, wow," Maka gushed before slapping a hand over her mouth, laughing at her own childishness.

He chuckled, "That's the normal reaction. Mom should have been a botanist with how much she loves this place."

Maka's fingers slipped out of his as she explored the rows, sticking her face close to each blossom to savor the different scents. Soul followed a few steps behind her, his hands stuffed into his pockets as a grin stretched his face. "You should see it in the daylight," he finally broke the silence, his smile widening as she turned to him. "I mean, you can, tomorrow if you want to stay over."

She froze, trying not to let any kind of expectation come into her voice. "Sleep here with you?"

Soul cleared his throat, "Well, usually the girls take my old room, boys in Wes's. Not that, not that I don't like sleeping next to you, want to sleep next to you, just…"

_Oh, how I wish that gut reaction would stop. He's not just looking to fuck you, get over it already, see it for what it is. Stop!_ She forced her fingers through her hair, taking in a deep breath before turning to him. "You don't sleep in your room?"

A crack formed in the corner of his smile, sending a quiver through it. "I guess it's not really my room. I don't ever go in there anymore. And, uh, Mom's turned both into guest rooms, really, so it doesn't matter who takes where."

_You ruined it. He was happy and look what you did_\- but before she could berate herself his hands were reaching out, fingers landing on her forearms before gliding to her elbows.

"I can take you home, though, if that's what you want. I know parties aren't your thing." She wanted those hands to keep moving, to slide up her shoulders to her neck in order to position her just right for what seemed like the inevitable, but they stayed put, cradling her elbows.

"No, it'll be a fun little sleepover," she smiled softly. "Soul…" Maka wanted to reach for him but found her arms moving to wrap around herself, hugging tightly around her middle. "Thank you."

"For what?" a little incredulous laugh trickled from his lips.

"For…" Maka rolled her shoulders in reply. "I think just for being you, OK? Thank you for being just what you are."

"You OK?" His grip tightened slightly as he pulled her a little closer, head dipping to meet her eyes that she had lowered.

"Yeah, fine." Maka lifted her eyes just enough, meeting his and feeling his exhale brush against her cheek. "I mean it, though. Maybe it sounds weird, but I've never been around someone who treats me like you do."

"And that's a good thing?" His heart drummed in his chest and he could swear he'd never catch his breath again.

"The best thing." Now her hands moved to his middle, pulling herself to him so she could fit perfectly against his chest. His heart was clamoring against her ear and she could feel the tensing of his muscles as he sucked in a breath, trying to absorb the moment. They'd hugged before, obviously, and laying in bed together now consisted of very little room in between the two of them, but this connection made a contented sigh bubble from his throat. Maybe it was the alcohol in his bloodstream or the way her hands were clutched into the back of his t-shirt, but every last inch of him was on fire. He wondered how it wasn't close enough for him but at the same time he could map out every inch of her with the way she was cemented to his body.

"Hey!" Patty called from the doorway. "Music's back on, let's go!"

Soul turned his head slowly, seeing Patty in the doorway, watching as Black Star suddenly appeared and started a low argument. He sighed, "Guess we got enough air."

Maka brought her head up from his chest, locking eyes with him as she murmured, "Maybe later."


	15. By My Side by Junny

The night had proceeded in much the same way, musical interludes separated by drinking and boisterous talking. While Soul had stopped drinking after his first, Maka had allowed her beer to be replenished once, feeling the slow throb of the alcohol in her blood. It wasn't much, but it was enough, and it was doing the opposite of what she intended it to do. She should have known that it wouldn't loosen her, it wouldn't make her pliable enough to lead him back outside to finish what they had started. Instead, it made her still, fearful, catching herself freezing sometimes at a touch, a whisper that should have been fun, playful.

By the end of the night, she wished for that t-shirt, the blaring sign that would say '_Ignore these stupid reactions I can barely control and kiss me.'_ Because Soul was too good, as usual, just checking on her, joking with her, but also showing that gentle worry in the line of his lips each time she got stuck in a memory. The last look like that from Soul she got as Liz started to drag her towards Soul's bedroom, only getting a soft touch to her hand as a goodbye, goodnight. In the bedroom, Liz thankfully saw the same in her, letting her settle without trying to get a recount of the evening's advances, or really, lack thereof.

As the girls drifted off and all other sounds in the house seemed to fade away, Maka lay awake looking at the ceiling. It was the tipsy feeling that she hated and it wasn't dissipating, leaving her to contemplate anything that could have been a misstep tonight. By the time the clock on the nightstand started to blink 3:30, Maka slipped out of the room and started down the stairs, convincing herself that maybe some of that night air, reliving that closeness with him would bring some kind of serenity. As she entered the living, Maka saw his hair over the back of the couch. "Soul?"

He was slow to turn, almost not believing his ears but finally giving in to the hope that she was there. His smile appeared over the edge of the couch and he motioned her over. "Can't sleep?"

Maka allowed herself to be beckoned, moving to the front of the couch and flopping down next to him. "No. You didn't bring your pills?"

"Nah," Soul shook his head slowly. "Drinking and that definitely don't mix, plus Black Star would take advantage of me if I passed out." Maka laughed, trying to catch it with the back of her hand and he let that sound wash over him, building a strange need to hear it again. "And forget staying in the room with him. He snores like a chainsaw."

She laughed again, dipping her shoulder into his before letting her head rest on his shoulder. It was still surprising to her, the way he no longer tensed at her touch, the way he used to shrink from it but now embraced it, using it as a cue to take her hand. "So you're going to try to sleep down here?"

"Maybe," Soul murmured. Turning his head practically planted his face into her hair and he let himself steal one breath's worth of her scent. "Probably just going to stare off into the darkness until it's an acceptable time to make coffee. Do you need anything? Were you cold or…?"

Maka stared at their connected hands. It was like there was a lockbox in her gut and that feeling, the warmth from his body welcoming hers was threatening the fortitude of its seal. "I just… I get scared to sleep when I'm not sober."

_Something hurt her_, growled up from his gut. The only instinct he had was to shift his arms around her, pulling her to his chest and forcing her face against his neck. "Sorry."

"Well, you're squeezing pretty tight but it doesn't hurt or anything." She laughed, sending a thrill up his spine as her hot breath escaped against his skin.

He couldn't stop his fingers from digging into the fabric of her shirt, trying to hold onto her like she was a flight risk. "No, I shouldn't have made you come here, to the party, I know you hate parties."

"You didn't make me do anything," she murmured. "And normally I just wouldn't drink, but I…" _I thought it would actually get me to kiss you, but instead, it made it worse, it made me worry more even though you were perfect. Just perfect. _"I trust you. I know you wouldn't let anything happen to me."

A long sigh escaped his mouth, some of the desperation and anger leeching away with it. "Never." The heat of a blush flared on his cheeks and he was even happier to have her pressed against him instead of looking at the mess that was his face. He was halfway between a grin and a grimace, her words blossoming both joy and concern. _She trusts you, but only with so much, right? There's still something she's hiding and while you are, too, at least you're honest about it._ Even that thought couldn't be wisped away with her breath tickled against his neck again. "But you were drunk that time when Liz and Black Star found you?"

From her teeth to her toes tensed and Maka felt the air freeze in her lungs. The word barely escaped her lips, no real vehicle for the sound. "Yes."

This was a minefield that he was dipping a toe into, and he had to resist the urge to seize up just as much as she was. Soul relinquished his squeeze but found her immobile, still resting against him but now with fingers that were clutching to him, digging into his skin through his shirt to the point where it was almost painful. "Do you remember all of it?" he whispered.

"No," she groaned. "Before, after, with tiny bits in between. Maybe… maybe I don't want to."

He reached a hand up, placing it gently against her hair, starting that pattern of smoothing that he had almost begun to perfect. "Did you tell somebody?"

"Who?" Maka choked out a rueful laugh. "My mom? My dad? Maybe if they were around. The police? You tell them you were drunk and it usually just ends there. Because I should know better, right? Getting drunk and going to a party alone. Anything that happens after that is my own damn fault."

Soul grabbed her shoulder, pulling her away even though she clutched at him just to look in her eyes. "You don't believe that do you?"

"Why shouldn't I?" The temptation to grab him, kiss him just to keep anything more from coming from his mouth became almost unbearable except a part of her was sure he'd refuse the ploy. That even if he wanted her kiss he wouldn't let it take him away from trying to dig out that cancer in her.

"Because it's not fair. You said it yourself, people shouldn't prey on others." _It was that him, his fault and fucking Christ I would rip out his throat if I knew who it was._

She smiled weakly as she blinked out a trail of tears. "But that's not what that other voice says, right? The irrational one that feeds the pain."

"Yeah," he sighed at his own admission thrown back in his face. Of course, logic couldn't control that and he'd spent years in therapy trying. "Did you talk to a doctor?"

"Liz took me to the hospital," Maka murmured.

"The other kind," Soul corrected.

Maka only shook her head, pushing against his grip until he allowed her to plant her head back on his chest.

Here was where he should insert the promotion of therapy, of psychiatrists, but he had already trounced too far, dragging mud into her heart and erasing everything comforting about this evening. He went back to smoothing her hair, feeling as she struggled against a few more breathy sobs before the steady rise and fall came back to her chest. "You need sleep."

Maka took the hint, starting to detach from him and coming to her feet, her eyes focused across the room in the darkness. "Sorry, I-"

"Where are you going?"

Maka felt his fingers just touch the tip of hers and as she turned back she found him starting to lay back on the couch, pressing his back against the cushion to create enough room for another body.

"Come here," he murmured as he reached for her again, fingers grazing her leg this time. Her heart started to flutter in her chest as she lowered herself to the couch, dangerously choosing to face him instead of her usual back to his chest. "You going to be comfortable like that?" There was a note of panic in his voice, his heartbeats unknowingly matching hers as her face inched closer to his.

"I will, but your arm might fall asleep." She grabbed his arm and maneuvered it between the crook of her neck, smiling as he responded by scooting a little more onto his back, giving her his chest as a pillow.

"I'll live," he laughed softly. _Because I'd lose an arm in order to be able to do this all the time._ He reached up to the blanket thrown over the back of the couch, pulling it down on top of them.

Maka's hand was searching for a spot, climbing up his stomach to find a home on his chest. That movement was agony, those conflicting feelings of shame and need, the second being a feeling he hadn't noticed in himself in years. "Soul?"

"Yeah?" He was still trying to swallow down that wave that was washing over him, now accompanied by a whisper of his own fear of the closeness.

Her fingers started to knead into the fabric of his t-shirt. "Is it OK? They might come down and see and I don't want to, I don't know…"

"I don't care if they see," he whispered to the ceiling, trying not to see any kind of look on her face. "Do you?"

The sigh that exited her lips was the definition of sweet and he could practically taste it, thumping his heart into overdrive. That was even more terrifying because he knew she had a front-row seat to that sound. "No." Maka hid her face against his shirt, feeling the burn on her cheeks and a weak smile coming back to her. Even with the pain he just dredged up, it was impossible for her to live in it, not with the way he enveloped her in his safety, his dedication, his… _Love. That's what it is, isn't it? Maybe not necessarily romantic, but it's love._

Suddenly his hand was sneaking up through her hair, brushing back her bangs to expose her forehead just in time for his lips to press against it. It was by no means smooth, an awkward smack that highlighted the fact that it was absolutely his first time ever even considering the maneuver, but it melted every last worry from her regardless. "Go to sleep," he whispered hoarsely. "I promise I won't let Black Star draw on your face."

Maka laughed, feeling the sting in her eyes as she clutched to him tighter. _Don't ever leave me. You promised you'd stay until I told you to go so I'm telling you that I never want that to happen. Stay, stay, stay, _repeated in my mind until she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Conflicted was too light of a word for Serena as she, admittedly creepily, stared down at her son over the back of the couch. Really, she should say Soul and Maka. _That is her name, right? The Albarn girl._ That flared a protectiveness that had genetically been passed down to Soul, especially as she wondered whether that girl's father had passed down any of his unfortunate traits to her. Serena was well-versed in Spirit Albarn's infidelity, having met him at many a studio party. That day that Maka had come to the company made her seem like a perfectly nice girl, but this was her _baby_. Her littlest, who was already so pained that the last thing he needed was to add heartache to it all.

It wasn't scandalous, the two of them just wrapped in each other's arms, completely clothed but close enough to be stealing breath. Soul looked so peaceful and a split second of jealousy gnawed at her heart, that stubbornly childish thought that it hadn't been her love, or his father's, that had weaned him out of the darkness but was surely this girl's instead. It was bittersweet, watching him so close to another person while still so far from the rest of them. She made sure her last thought was a wish for longevity before turning back to the hallway and getting back to the stairs.

The rest of the motley crew would be still asleep. Serena didn't fool herself into thinking they'd been well-behaved last night, knowing that the levels in the bar were probably lower than the day before, but they were mostly grown at this point. She made her way back to the bedroom, opening the door quickly and making Scott jump from his pile of newspaper in bed. He was one of the few people who still enjoyed the news in actual paper form and she loved him for it, usually watching him pour over the pages in bed.

"You have to come see your son," Serena murmured before biting her lip, trying to suppress anything that could give away the secret.

"He OK?" Scott jumped a little more, clearing the paper quickly and launching himself off the bed. For a brief second the flashback of rushing to the hospital glazed over his brain.

"Oh, honey, sorry, he's fine, it's just-" She cut herself off to move towards him, her hands instantly moving to smooth the front of his t-shirt. "He'll die of embarrassment but come see, OK? Quiet as a mouse."

Scott took her hand from his chest, letting her then lead the way across the plush carpets of the hallway and stairs. His first instinct was to continue questioning but he embraced her wish for quiet, shuffling softly into the living room where she planted him at the back of the couch, hand silently motioning over it. Scott found that he was still holding his breath, the idea that Soul was once again at rock bottom not free from his mind until his eyes met the picture that Serena had already scrutinized.

Soul had inherited his protectiveness from Serena, while the cool, aloof joking had come from Scott, who at that moment had to bite his tongue in an attempt to keep himself from ruining the moment. Instead, he offered her two raised eyebrows, eyes wide and blinking before miming a whistle. Serena covered her mouth and started to tug at his hand, bringing him towards the kitchen and out of stalking range of the lovebirds.

Once in the safety of the kitchen, Scott repeated the whistle, this time with extra gusto. "How long has that been happening?"

"Oh, as if he'd tell me," Serena scolded before starting the process of making coffee.

"That's the girl he brought to the office, right?"

Serena paused to turn to huff at him, her head shaking. "Honestly, Scott. Maka Albarn. I swear you can't remember a name for your life."

"Hey, hey, I see a million people a week, cut me some slack," Scott raised his hands in innocence. "But Albarn, huh? Christ, I haven't seen him in years. I hope that apple falls far from that tree."

Serena groaned, "I know! Am I being ridiculous to want to tell him not to? He still isn't better and if she hurts him-"

"You _are_ being ridiculous." Scott moved those innocent hands to her hips, planting a soft kiss against her neck. "And maybe he's not a hundred percent but he is better. Just catching him with a girl tells you that much, Serena. So we have to give him the chance to move forward with his life."

"Oh," Serena attempted to stamp her feet but Scott pulled her closer to him, making her step instead of stomp. "Well, I want to talk to her. I want to get to know her and-"

"Ridiculous," Scott cooed. "All you'll do is ruffle his feathers. This is one time I'm pulling the plug on you. No nosing allowed."

Serena pouted as she flicked the coffee maker on, another low groan escaping her lips.

"But," Scott left one more kiss on her neck before turning around. "If we're loud enough, the two will probably get up." He finished this thought with a loud, bellowing laugh, followed by unnecessary banging around the cabinets for cups.

Serena's laugh didn't compare to Scott's but she let it titter out.

Soul's thin sleep was no match for the hub-bub in the kitchen and he sucked in a slow breath as his heavy lids fluttered open. His eyes searched the room as he almost expected to see his father there with the volume but only finding Maka's face. She'd tilted her head in the night, so close that she must have spent the whole night breathing his exhaust. _What would she think if I woke her with a kiss? If I leaned just that millimeter and gave her what Black Star says she wants?_ He sighed and raised his chin, instead planting his lips again on her forehead, this one a little more practiced.

"Good morning," she murmured, her hand tensing into his t-shirt as she moved her head back to get a better view of his face. "You sleep OK?"

"Yeah." Soul found himself holding his breath, his eyes had made the mistake of trailing down to her lips. That same thought flooded his mind again. "You?" weakly warbled from his mouth.

"Perfect." Maka's heart fluttered, seeing the way his eyes darted from her eyes to her mouth, his head just minutely tipping before pausing again, searching her face for a second time. "Soul…"

Another laugh erupted from the kitchen and Maka jumped, losing her balance as she started to slip over the edge of the couch. Soul grasped at her quickly, just getting enough of a hold on her to keep her from tumbling. "My dad," Soul grumbled before settling her back next to him. "You can hear him from a mile away."

Maka laughed softly, "Guess you didn't inherit that."

"The sense of humor, yeah, but not the volume." Soul blew out a huff of air towards the ceiling, trying to bring his heart back from thundering. "I'm, uh, I guess I'm going to get up, say hi to them. You can do whatever. I mean, you don't need my permission or anything." He shot out another breath.

Maka sat up slowly, hating the feeling of leaving Soul's touch but managing a laugh at the nervousness of his comment. "If you don't mind I'll come with you. I definitely need coffee and I think I can smell it."

"OK," Soul was breathless, mind stuck on the idea that she was willing to even go into that kitchen, risking seeing his father or, heaven forbid, his mother.

She turned, slipping the rest of the way off the couch and catapulting herself to her feet. Maka threw her hands over her head stretching out the cramp from the singular position of the night. As she turned back to him, Maka caught the swift turn of his head, his eyes forced elsewhere but a fine line of blush tingeing his cheeks. _He almost just kissed you. You know that. _That was enough to make her cheeks match his and she showed him her back to hide it, pretending to be invested in twirling up her hair into a messy bun.

Soul couldn't even feel the shame of it, so overwhelmed by watching the way she moved. The only thing that made sense to him was to stand up, to pull her in, to taste her. That thought lit his face up all over again and he attempted to rub it off, trying to massage the color out with his fingers in the guise of waking himself up. He managed to get his cheeks cool enough to sit up, moving to stand next to her. "Ready?"

"I'll meet you there." She pointed down the opposite hallway towards the bathroom.

"Sure." Soul waited to watch her leave before starting the slow walk down the hallway towards the continued laughter of his dad. He was ready to plaster his face with annoyance but as he walked through the doorway he caught sight of the two of them, Serena still attempting to pout as Scott was leaning on the island next to her, face upturned to get a good view of her face through the rivulets of golden hair. They were both grinning and Soul found it contagious.

Serena's face lit up as soon as she saw the movement in the doorway. "Good morning, darling!"

"Hey, kiddo." Scott's grin was almost ear to ear and Soul came down from their joy, staring at them skeptically.

"Isn't it a little early for this much noise?" Soul finally pulled the veil of irritation over his face.

"What, hungover?" Scott laughed before turning back to the counter behind him, pouring a cup of coffee to hand off to Soul.

Soul shook his head as he accepted the cup. "Had one drink last night."

_Love drunk instead,_ Scott barely bit his tongue in time. To make matters worse it was that moment that Maka arrived behind Soul, her smile tentative but still close to the glowing that he'd witnessed at the office. "Good morning," Scott tried on the most neutral tone he could manage but the smirk was still pulling at his lips.

"Hello, Maka," Serena was trying on a coolness Scott found laughable as Soul furrowed his brow at her momentarily.

"Good morning," Maka echoed. "It's nice to see you again."

Soul turned and handed the coffee cup off to her. "Here, as promised."

"Thank you." Maka cooled the coffee with intense concentration, trying to not look like she was avoiding the eyes in the room. She could see the amusement plastered all over Scott's face, the odd calm of Serena in juxtaposition.

"What a gentleman," Scott nudged at Serena, who offered him nothing but a dirty look in return.

"Dad," Soul groaned before walking over to the coffee pot and replacing the cup he'd given to Maka. With coffee in hand, he glanced at both of his parents, seeing strange knowing smiles on their faces. It wasn't until Scott glanced back at Maka and then had to smother a grin with his hand that it hit Soul. _They saw, you idiot. Of course, they did. _Soul swallowed hard before clearing his throat. "What did you two do last night?"

"Hid in our room like not-nosey parents," Scott smirked. "Your mother peeked, you know she did, but for the most part enjoyed the serenade through the floor."

"I hope it wasn't too loud." Maka was almost ready to apologize even though the noise wasn't any of her own makings.

Serena's thin hold on her skepticism about the girl was fluttering away, especially looking at that sweet smile on Maka's face. "It's nothing new. Black Star is practically a third son and he's never quiet."

As Maka watched the cool wash away from Serena's face, she felt the ease of the conversation coming back to her. "Soul said you'd been friends with his parents for a long time."

Soul busied his mouth with the coffee, eyeing his mother and then his father, watching as his eyebrows wiggled momentarily. _Dad,_ he wanted to groan again but let Maka have the floor without strange interruption.

"Since before Scott and I were married," Serena laughed softly. "Cynthia was the reason I met Scott at all since she's technically his cousin."

"Second or third cousins, who knows," Scott shrugged. "But technically it was your voice that got us together since Cynthia only got you an interview."

"Cute of you to still think I was going there to get a job," Serena murmured to him before turning her glance to Maka. "Cynthia showed me a picture of him and I was smitten, record exec or not. I was hopeful that the boys would look just like him, but at least Soul got the most handsome parts."

"Mom," Soul couldn't hold that groan back, the muscles in his stomach tightening as he risked a glance at Maka. She met his eyes and smiled, sending his gut for another revolution. "You have to say that," he tried to joke, tried to bring himself back from that wobbly edge of falling headfirst into the reality that it was only a matter of him having the balls to tell her, to do more than just kiss her forehead.

"Doesn't mean I can't be telling the truth," Serena feigned indignance before looking between the two of them. "You don't have to keep us company to pay for the coffee. Why don't you see if the rest of the group is stirring yet?"

"Black Star's dead to the world until at least noon," Soul huffed before turning to Maka. "You want to actually see the garden?"

"That's right!" Maka's eyes lit up.

Soul tried to pre-empt anymore gushing, especially as he saw his mother revving up to brag, by gently taking her elbow and turning Maka towards the day. "See you later," he threw over his shoulder.

"You let him get off easy," Scott murmured as soon as the pair had gotten far enough out of earshot.

"You told me to," she grumbled back before turning to the window of the kitchen, leaning just far enough to get a view of that tree Soul was so fond of.

"Ah, better for you just to spy from afar," Scott teased.

It took time since Soul was slow to move Maka through the living room and back out to the warm summer morning. The dew was a nice wake-up under his toes but no matter how refreshing it felt his heart was still starting to thunder. His mother was spying in the right direction though, Soul taking her on an easy amble from along the row of flowers towards the weeping cherry tree.

"I don't know, it might be better at night." Maka paused to muse over that as she took a long sip from her coffee cup.

"Why?" Soul took the opportunity to catch up with her, trying to follow the stare of her eyes towards the lilacs that were already humming with insect life.

Maka shrugged, having one more sip of coffee to give her enough time to put together the words. "I think it's because sometimes it's not about what you see. And when you can't, the other senses kind of fill in the blanks."

Soul hummed thoughtfully in agreement, starting the walk again towards the tree. It had always been his favorite, a hiding spot from his childhood that grew better as the tree did. At this point, the branches and blossoms had just about completely obscured the trunk and as Soul pulled aside one of the branches the petals fluttered in the wind like confetti. "This is the best part," he murmured back to her before guiding her in first.

Maka stood entranced for a moment, the sheets of pink petals only giving pinpoints of light into the enclosure that was the cherry tree. It had long since lost its breathtaking abilities for Soul, so he let her marvel as he walked to the trunk, setting his coffee cup on one of the thicker limbs. He was surprised by her hand moving past him, copying his action with her own cup and before he could make a little quip about the spot that hand was coming moving to him, grasping into his shirt.

Anything he had to say shriveled in his throat as that hand pulled him a step forward, bringing him toe to toe with her. Maka was smiling, one of those brilliant, heart-shattering grins and before he could even recover from that she was bringing it to him, planting it with a surprising softness against his own lips. There was nothing in his life to compare this to, no words that he could use to accurately describe the euphoria. Maka was completely lost, her fingers tightening into the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to anchor a part of her to the Earth. As they finally parted, Maka laughed breathlessly, "I'm sorry."

"No," Soul gripped at her elbows, "I should have done that a million times last night. Instead, you get coffee and morning breath."

"I don't care," Maka murmured as she brought her other hand up to sit side by side with the other, fanning out to feel his chest through his shirt.

"Then, I…" Soul rushed his fingers up her arms, slowing at her neck just to feel the skin, "Can I?"

Maka let a soft laugh trickle from her mouth. "You don't have to ask."

Soul pulled her back in, trying to memorize the nerves that tingled with each second of their connection. "Maka," the throaty whisper was the only thing he could manage after they parted.

"You liked it, too, hm?" Another euphoric little laugh bubbled from her throat. "One more." He obliged her without a second thought, this time letting his fingers sink into her hair, messing up the already struggling bun. After they parted for air, Maka slid her hands from his chest to around his waist, pulling him tightly into a hug, finding Soul completely pliable now, just about melting into her. "I want us to… I want to be more than friends."

"Please," he murmured as he pressed his cheek against her hair. "But it's serious, isn't it? Not just… I'm not sure about, you know, just hooking up or…"

"Not hooking up," she whispered into his shirt. "But I know, I think _you_ know that I haven't told you everything, that there are things that I can't seem to let go."

"I know." Soul moved his hands to her shoulders, pulling her from his chest so he could meet those green eyes. "That's why I want to make you a deal."

"A deal?" The wave of fear that threatened to take her died away with the confusion at the concept.

"A month," Soul smiled softly. "Just give me a month because I think I can make you sure that no matter what you say, I'm not going anywhere."

"Soul…" Maka's sigh was cut off by his voice starting again.

"That doesn't let you off the hook," his voice wasn't a whisper anymore but a firm order. "You have to work towards it too. There's still…" he sighed, making one of his hands move away from her to run through his hair. "The physical stuff with me that I'm getting to, but I'm going to trust you to meet me halfway. If we set a time, it'll be more like a goal than a fear."

"The last of the secrets in a month," Maka echoed, turning it over in her mind. It was almost too rational and she wanted to argue but there were no words for it in her mind.

"That's the goal." Soul brought his hand back to caress along the line of her jaw. "Deal?"

Maka leaned into his touch, letting the idea settle into her with purpose. "Deal."


	16. Confidence by Golden

Thanks to all my commenters out there - I really appreciate the reviews!

* * *

It was strange to find the apartment dark, especially since Soul had pretty much gotten into the groove of everyday living. It swelled an alien panic in Maka's chest, making her toss her purse and let her feet fly down the hallway. Her first instinct was the studio but it was empty, no blinking of lights or the low hum of electronics. Maka turned across the hall quickly but found herself stuck in the doorway, unsure of what she was seeing on the bed. It was Soul, staring at the ceiling with arms crossed at his stomach, but the fear struck her that motionlessness wasn't resting but death.

"Hey," he murmured, eyes never leaving their position.

Maka took a few more steps forward to the bed, standing over him. "You scared me."

"Sorry," it was the same low, slow voice, almost robotic. He slowly reached a hand up, rubbing it over his face before letting out a sigh. "It's just… today's not good. I'm not good."

She dropped to the bed gently, trying not to disrupt his stationary position. The comparison to the party Soul was jarring, her first real taste of his depression heaving her own feelings into a tumultuous mess. "What happened?"

He rolled onto his side, hands falling lifeless to the bed as his eyes found a new focus on the comforter. "I don't know. Or maybe I do. It's ridiculous and it shouldn't-"

"Stop," Maka laid her hand over his. "Just tell me what you think did it. Don't dismiss it."

Soul let out another withering sigh, not even able to clutch at her like part of him wanted to, forcing his hand to remain inert under hers. "Mom made me go yesterday, sign up for classes, get a lay of the land."

Maka waited but when he offered nothing more, she prodded, "Did something happen while you were there?"

"No, it was fine," he murmured. He dug his fingers into the blanket, feeling her fingers tense over his. "It's all fine. I'm moving forward, right?" It was anger, but not seething, but enough that you could hear it trickle into his voice. "Go to school and be worthless there, too. Get nothing done, waste their time and their money and just amount to nothing."

Maka sighed, "I know everything I'm about to say isn't going to convince you but I'm going to say it anyway." Holding his hand in one of hers, she moved the other to his cheek, caressing him softly. "You _are_ moving forward. You're not worthless in any definition of the word in any of the spaces that you are or will be. You do a lot of things, some of them small, but you get projects done, you've made songs, you've started running even though you hate it. And in the end, no matter what, you mean something. To your parents, to your friends, to me."

He mirrored her sigh, rolling onto his side. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for what you're feeling." She hesitated, contemplating if her want to kiss him was selfish or if it would be helpful at all. Instead, she cleared the hair from his forehead, planting her lips there. Before she could pull back his hand was on her neck, surprising her.

Even though he'd been leaning in to kiss her, his eyes were still open, gauging the way her green eyes blinked wide. _She's scared. _"I'm sorry," he murmured.

Her eyebrows furrowed, "I told you, don't be sorry for how you feel."

"No." Soul's hand surprised her again, slipping to her cheek. "I scared you. Tell me why you were scared."

"Scared?" she balked. "I'm not scared! Well, maybe for _you,_ but-"

"No," he broke through her words. "When I leaned in, the first thing that showed up in your eyes was fear. When I touch you sometimes, it's fear. I can't-" He coughed the air out of his mouth, feeling the pain searing in his chest. "I can't stop thinking it's me. It's something about me that scares you and I hate that."

"Soul, no." Her fingers rubbed against his cheek, following the line of his jaw. "It's not you. It's nothing about you." The air warbled from her throat, her sigh strained. "You gave me a month, remember? It's part of that and I swear I'm getting there, I promise, but… you're hurt today, and you just want to keep hurting yourself, don't you? So, I'm going to repeat, _it's not you._" Maka closed the space, her lips tenderly brushing against his.

Soul's grip on her tightened as his hand moved from her cheek to the back of her neck as he refused to give her space. The kiss evolved slowly, Soul dissolving into desperation and roughness before it broke with a sob, his breath trembling against her lips. "I'm worthless."

"Sh," she hushed his lips with another kiss, feeling them tremble against hers. Maka pulled away slowly, feeling his grip slip from the back of her neck and drift down her arm. "What have you done so far today?" Maka murmured as she used her gentle fingers to clear the tears from his face.

"This," he muttered.

"Shower?"

He sighed, "You were coming, so yeah…"

"I appreciate that," she smiled but it didn't catch on so she continued her work of clearing his face. "Did you eat?"

"No, but please-"

She cut him off gently with a finger to his lips. "Maybe later, then." Maka studied him, watching as his eyes focused on his hand on her arm, his fingers trailing along her skin. "Let's start with a movie."

A flash of skepticism flashed over his eyes. "Maka…"

"Small steps. Out of bed first." Maka stood and happily found that he followed her, fingers never leaving her arm as if needing the lifeline. Before he could take a step from the bed her arms were around his waist, pulling him in tightly enough that he lost his breath for a second. "Second, this." It was a small step but his arms tightened around her, that closer-to-contented sigh escaping his lips as he pressed his face to her hair. "Third, move to the couch."

The sound that left his throat was closer to a grunt but at least remotely resembled a laugh, spurring Maka to let go of his middle and take his hand to lead him down the hallway. She planted him on the couch before opening one of the shades which elicited a groan from his lips. "Just a little sun, drama queen."

"Shades should be down for a movie," he grumbled back.

"Too bad." She shot a smile back at him, finding him lounging back on the couch, eyes half-lidded as he studied her. What he was looking for was beyond her, but she kept on her trajectory. "I'm going to make tea. Do you want some?"

"OK."

"Maybe you can pick the movie?" she offered gently before starting the walk towards the hallway. As she passed him she drew her fingers through his hair, listening to him sigh as he reached out to let his fingers graze her thigh. She didn't wait for the affirmative, just moved to the kitchen and started the water. The cabinets were steadily stocked with her insistence of a myriad of tea choices even though he rarely drank any of it on his own. She picked the peppermint rose, hoping that cool, calming would reach him just as much as her touch would. All she could do was shuffle her feet as she waited for the water to boil, trying to make a plan for his discomfort.

A cold was easy: drink lots of fluids, take medicine, rest. Depression was strange to navigate in comparison, especially since she only had the symptoms and remedies of her worst days to compare it to and was that anything like what he was feeling? If he'd spent the entire morning staring at the ceiling then it was nothing like her anxious, constant need to move, that fear that catapulted her from place to place. She settled on doing what she could, to offer normalcy and comfort.

By the time she'd come to that conclusion the tea had steeped and she tossed the bags into the garbage before making her way back to him. He'd done as asked, the studio insignia queued on the screen as he sat staring at it. As she set the cups down on the coffee table his hand softly touched the small of her back. "Thank you," he murmured.

She eased onto the couch next to him, his hand drifting up her back to rest around her shoulder. "You're welcome. What movie did you pick?"

"Something stupid," he produced almost a smile, the corner of his mouth twitching. "_Critters_."

"Isn't that from the eighties?" Maka grinned as she leaned forward to press play, listening as the blare of music faded away.

"It's mindless," he murmured. "It'll help."

"Good." Maka took his hand, starting to lift his arm away from around her. "Instead of this…" She then moved to lay down on the couch, making room against the inside while holding up her arm. "Come here."

He eyed her for a second, mentally negotiating the space. If he did that, Soul's head only had one place to rest, directly on her chest and while he was a hundred percent sure that nothing today was going to put him in _the mood_, it was strange new territory. "You sure?" was all he could manage.

"Yes," she motioned again with a renewed smile that beckoned him more than the hand. Soul gave in, slipping next to her and planting his head against her chest while the movie drifted in one ear and her heartbeat in the other. Her hand came down, resting in his hair to smooth it back as her eyes wandered to the TV. "Comfortable?"

"Yes." Tentatively he draped his arm over her, hand lighting on the fabric that covered her stomach. He had expected her muscles to tense, especially since that was the usual reaction to any touch, but all there was under his fingers was the rise and fall of her breath. _The fear, it's not you, it's something in her but right now, somehow, that touch was fine._ He tried not to let that darker voice tell him differently even though it had the microphone for most of the day. Instead, he focused on her heartbeat, the bad movie playing in the background, the little snorts of her laughter at the ridiculousness on the screen.

At one point his eyes shut, drifting off into a hazy half-sleep. Maka let him be, clearing the hair from his brow every now and then as she let the next movie autoplay. She focused instead on his hand, the way it sat perfectly on her stomach, the way that the warmth and pressure of it were so strangely satisfying. And while he was struggling, Maka finally found herself _not_, feeling no fear in his touch, his closeness. Part of it she knew was because he needed this, and she wanted to be able to give it to him, but it was something else, too, something else she couldn't put her finger on yet.

She started running the options until his eyes opened again, a low sigh of waking breaking against her neck as he angled his face there, his nose nuzzling under her jaw. There it was again, her body was not lit up by terror but… was it need? Did she actually want him? It shouldn't be absurd, especially since if someone asked she would refer to him as her boyfriend, but it was. In all regular context, she never wanted a touch, but there it was, her body for once begging for more. "Good nap?"

He simply hummed out an affirmative, another dangerous breath heating her neck.

"I think it's time you got some sun, then." She cleared the hair from his forehead, his face now tilting out of its hiding spot to blink at her.

"Do I have to?" he muttered.

"Yes, for fifteen minutes."

Soul huffed, giving her one last squeeze before slowly easing to sitting.

"Put your shoes on," she ordered before slipping off the couch, and disappearing into the hallway. The bathroom was a necessity, especially after tea and two-plus hours stranded on the couch, but it was also just to have a moment to get her body in check, to let whatever was leftover to get out of her system. _He's hurting, he's vulnerable, you can't concentrate on that._ She smoothed herself out before meeting him back in the hallway, Soul standing ready to be ordered around.

After slipping on her own shoes, she herded him out to the hallway, into the stairwell, and onto the street. As soon they were out on the sidewalk side by side, Soul grabbed her hand, tangling his fingers with hers. "Where are we going?"

"Just around the block. It's just sun, fresh air," Maka smiled, relieved that he could mirror her.

There was no dragging needed regardless of his previous complaint and he kept step with her. _How does she know? How does she seem to make the right step each time without asking, prodding, forcing?_ He still felt out of whack, still hearing that grating voice of inadequacy in the back of his mind, but it was almost impossible not to melt in that smile. And he was slowly thawing out, between the sleep, the sun, and her.

She walked him to the gate of the park, taking a second to lean against the fence and examine in all the people meandering around. His fingers started at her elbows, that subtle hint he was there, before skimming down to her waist, wrapping around her stomach to hug her from behind. His head came over her shoulder, his cheek pressing against hers. There was the tense again, she couldn't help it, couldn't stop it from flexing every last bit of muscle. "That's nice," she murmured, pressing back into him as he took her weight.

Soul had felt her relax as soon as she said it, but he still couldn't stop the doubt. "You sure?"

"Sometimes…" she sighed, trying to focus on the way his hands against her middle brought that new feeling back. "It takes an extra second. It's like my body doesn't know it's you and my mind needs to convince it. But in my head, Soul, I want it."

He pressed his lips against her cheek, his arms squeezing a little tighter around her waist. "Let's go back," he murmured.

Maka danced her fingers over the skin of his arms. "As long as you promise me another one of these when we get home."

"As many as you want." He hid a tentative smile against her shoulder before releasing her, turning to start the walk back. Her hand moved back into his and she stuck close to him, eyes darting to him every few steps as she tried to gauge him. It was obvious that he still wasn't himself, but he was touching, talking, breathing and she could live with that. The walk back was slower as if Soul wasn't completely interested in getting back inside and Maka happily let it linger.

The moment that they did get in the apartment he went right to fulfilling his promise, arms back to being tightly wound around her waist, pulling her back to his chest so he could hide his face against her hair. "Still OK?" he worried.

Maka's sigh was a muddy mixture of forlorn and content. "You've never given me a reason to be afraid of you." It was weak, but a smile started across her lips, trailing back through their memories. "Like the first night I stayed here I was sure… positive you were going to come into the room that you were going to expect me to… but it didn't even cross your mind, did it?"

"I couldn't even hug you, almost didn't even talk myself into touching you at all. You got a glorified head pat and that was as much as I could muster," Soul sighed out slowly.

"But it's what I needed." Maka let the smile catch. For someone not used to touch, Soul had seemed to master it in a matter of days, his lips pressing to her neck. The electricity of that kiss refused to dissipate, and Maka found herself bewildered by the stir it caused in her chest, trickling down to the base of her stomach. She patted his arm and Soul took the signal, slipping his arms away. "Think you can eat now?"

"Yeah." He took her wrist before she could move away. "But let me, OK? You don't have to do everything."

Maka turned to him, her hand coming to his face. "Promise you won't burn anything?"

A snort of air resembling a laugh left him. "I'll try." He took the hand from his face and squeezed it. "Go ahead and pick another movie."

"Might as well be _Critters 2_," Maka grumbled as she turned for the living room, leaving him to go his separate ways in the kitchen.

Soul wasn't planning anything extravagant, opting for the simple pasta dish she had shown him after their first grocery trip. There were moments that were touch and go, that he was sure he'd have to call for her but that other slowly recovering side of Soul pushed against it. The fire alarm didn't sound and while the counter definitely wasn't as immaculate as it used to be, nothing was broken or in grand disarray by the time he brought the plates into the living room.

Maka had left the movie queued but had opened a book in her lap, trying to wait patiently as she heard him bustling around the kitchen. When he finally emerged with plates in hands, Maka let an attempt at a whistle leave her lips. "Look at you!"

"Just what you showed me," he mumbled.

"Looks great, though." Maka slapped her book shut as she eased down onto the floor to use the coffee table. Soul placed the plate in front of her before setting down his own and pressing play, hoping to end any more of the compliments with the boom of _Critters 2_.

As he sat next to her, Maka's hand reached for his, taking a second to squeeze before starting the work of eating in silence. Soul spent most of the time picking, only managing one mouthful to every three of hers. Most of his time was devoted to making it look like he was watching the movie, but the time was really divided between it and her, stealing glances at every opportunity. _It's been a little over a week since she kissed me, since the party, and look at me, trying to find a way to ruin it. Trying to get her to say she's afraid of me. But she's not, she's not._

His sigh snapped her from the revelry of just being with him, making her turn to him, fingers moving to grasp into his shirt. "What was that for?"

"Just breathing," but the secondary sigh that he released made that obviously a lie.

"Or just thinking." She shook his shirt before releasing him to push her plate far enough that she could lean an elbow on the table and then paused the movie. "Today you woke up, you showered, you watched part of a movie, napped, took a walk, and made lunch. All of them a success."

"Not what I was thinking about," he admitted.

Maka pressed her lips together firmly, the answer immediately in her mind but needing to be churned, pruned for the moment. "The being scared thing, then?"

"It's stupid, Maka," he shot back, hands coming to pull back his hair. "I know you're not, you said it wasn't like that and you wouldn't lie to me."

"No, I won't." She sighed, "But I don't think telling you about it now is a good idea. You not feeling well doesn't exactly seem to mix with _that_."

"I don't know," he grumbled. He moved his hands from his hair to her, cupping at her cheeks. "Maybe… can I just try something?"

"Try what?" Her heart stumbled into an unsteady beat.

"Trust me," he tried to cover up the faltering in his voice by standing. He offered his hand to her, waiting until she took it and helped her to her feet. Maka's heart continued to pound as he started to lead her out of the living room, down the hallway and back to the bedroom. "Can you lay down?"

"I… Soul, if you… I'm not sure." The trembling that had started in her fingertips was rambling up her arms.

"It's not that," he whispered. "Clothes stay on, I swear." She gulped for air before lowering herself on the bed, moving over to her side of the bed to give him room. Soul laid down next to her, "Relax, Maka, please."

_That's a million times easier said than done,_ she quipped in her head before forcing another deep breath. _Remember, this is Soul. He's never done anything, not one thing, to prove what your body says every time. If he says it's not _that _then it's not._ "I might be as relaxed as I'm ever going to be," Maka let out a weak laugh.

"OK." But he still spent a few breaths just laying next to her, his hands to himself but his eyes all hers. After enough time had slipped by he raised his hand, bringing her eyes to it as he carefully rested it on her stomach. "When I touched you here before, it was fine?"

She touched a tentative finger to the top of his hand, reliving her wondrous thoughts while he had been sleeping. "Better than fine."

"What does it feel like?" he murmured.

"How do I answer that?" she let out a short laugh, turning her eyes to his again.

"Just try," he shrugged.

Maka chewed at her lip. "It's warm…" She paused to laugh at herself, her hand coming to her face to try to wipe it away. "I guess the pressure is nice, like you're holding me steady, or maybe like you don't want to be apart."

"What about this?" He brought his hand up slowly from her stomach, letting her eyes follow the movement until his fingers touched at her collarbone, running a slow line from its start to finish.

"It tickles," she laughed but her stomach fluttered as he traced his finger back. "But it gives me goosebumps, too."

"This?" His hand slid to her throat but before he could flex her hand was at his wrist, pulling it away.

"Not that," she croaked, feeling like those fingers were still there clenching tightly against her neck.

"That scares you?"

She nodded quickly, trying to manage a swallow after to try to clear the sensation.

"Alright." He gently coaxed his wrist out of her grip, moving his hand to the side of her face instead, gently moving down her cheek. "This?"

"It makes me think you're going to kiss me," she smiled softly.

"Do you want me to?"

"I thought I told you that you don't have to ask," Maka managed a short laugh.

Soul shook his head slowly. "I think I want to, and I think I want to practice this with you when we see each other, too. I want to know the touches that are OK, the ones that scare you, the ones that you like."

"Practice touching?" What she thought was going to be a laugh shriveled into a breathy sigh, that swell of emotion in her chest strangling it.

"Yeah," he inched closer, "The last thing I want is for you to be afraid. So teach me."

Maka couldn't wait for him, tipping her head so that their lips met, no permission needed.


	17. Comfortable by Simon Dominic, Gray

"OK, Girl talk!" Black Star crowed as he dropped next to Soul on the couch.

"We're guys," Soul answered absently as he toyed with the controller.

"That's sexist," Black Star groaned. "Just fucking spill already."

Soul smirked, "About what?"

That received a firm fist to his shoulder from Black Star.

"Fuck's sake," Soul growled before rubbing at his shoulder. "You're abusive."

"You know it's out of love," Black Star cooed back before ruffling Soul's hair. "So?"

"I already told you what happened at the party," Soul grumbled before picking up the other controller and trying to force it into Black Star's hands. "Just play the damn game."

"Absolutely not." He dropped the controller back in Soul's lap. "And sure, the party, the fact that she kissed you still boggles my fucking mind but it's been like two weeks now, right? What else?"

"If you're asking me to kiss and tell, I won't." But it was more so _touch_ and tell if anything at all. Kissing was common, but the practice that he'd assigned himself was becoming an every-time-they-met activity and he had to admit he savored every moment of it. As if he'd tell Black Star, but just last night he'd finally gotten the nerve to brush, as soft as could be, across her breast, waiting for some kind of admonishment or, worse yet, fear but got a sweet sigh instead. She, unfortunately, refused to put that one into words, a blush on her cheeks that he would never forget.

"No, I'm asking about your deal, dummy," Black Star sighed. "I can probably take a good guess at how far you've gotten, but I want to know if you've spilled yet."

The temperature of his thoughts instantly turned as his fingers gripped tighter into the plastic. "She's touched on some things."

"But you, _you_ haven't said anything?" Black Star prodded.

A shuddering sigh left his lips. "No, that's still not…"

Black Star rolled his eyes, collapsing back on the couch with as much drama as he could muster. "So you're planning on never having sex, then?"

"Oh, fuck off," Soul growled.

"Come on, man," Black Star added another eye roll. "It's a natural activity. You know you want to, but-"

"But if she sees that shit she's going to flip." Soul's voice crumbled into a squeak as he tossed the controller. "And what if she's not ready to even be touched? _You _know more about what happened to her than I do."

"Don't turn this on Maka." Soul was surprised by the harshness in Black Star's voice, his own little rumble of protectiveness. "You need to get this out in the open, just like you promised."

"Fuck." Soul let his head fall into his hands.

Black Star let his hand fall on Soul's shoulder, tugging at him. "I'm not saying rip off your shirt or anything. Start a conversation."

"How?" Soul raised his head, his eyes desperately searching Black Star's. "I mean, we both know it still doesn't make any sense to you, so how is Maka, my new girlfriend that hasn't even known me a year, going to wrap her head around it?"

"It doesn't have to make sense," Black Star scoffed. "Because you're fucking right I don't get it, but that doesn't mean I don't love you. So give Maka the same chance."

Soul still felt his gut withering, mouth pulled into a deep frown. "But you loved me before all that shit. She doesn't have that."

Black Star shook his head slowly, an amused laugh trickling from his mouth. "You're stupid."

"Fuck off," he muttered.

"No, really, a complete idiot." Black Star jostled him again. "I thought I already told you, she's in love with you. Maybe neither of you has the guts to say it, but she's already in hook-line-and-sinker. You show her this and I swear it's not going to change a thing."

"So I have to."

"Dude, you already made that lame-ass deal, of course, you have to." There was the temptation to hug him, something Black Star rarely gave in to. Instead, he offered another ruffle of Soul's hair. "But again, start small. Talk to her."

Soul sighed, "Can't get easier than that."

* * *

Maka was laying on her back, Soul's fingers dragging against her collarbone again. "You've done that one," she grinned.

"Still goosebumps?"

She hummed back an affirmative before turning her smile to him. "Try somewhere new."

"Turn your head." He let his finger touch her chin to push her in the right direction and she followed it, her face almost touching the pillow. The bed moved but Maka forced herself still, trusting him even through the clenching of her gut. Soul planted his hand at her side to steady himself before he leaned in, pressing his lips on the cord of her neck. "This?" he breathed out against her skin.

Maka sighed dreamily in reply, her hand blindly searching for him and resting on his side as she refused to move her head. "Again."

His laugh against her skin thrilled her almost as much as the next few kisses that traveled a soft line back to the collarbone he'd just abandoned. "What does it feel like?"

"It makes me feel like…" Maka's hand drifted lower, fingers toying at the edge of his shirt. "I want to touch you, too, Soul."

The breath against her neck hitched and the next press of his lips was slow, trapping his initial rambling fear against her skin. He eased back before whispering, "Maka, look at me."

She did as asked, her eyebrows narrowing. "What is it?"

"Just… keep looking in my eyes, OK?"

A hesitant smile came to her face. "Are you trying to hypnotize me?"

The way he clutched at her wrist tore all the humor from the joke. His lip trembled as he breathed out, "Please, just my eyes."

"Alright." Maka let her hand go limp in his, let him guide it under his shirt to press her fingers into the skin of his stomach. The feeling beneath her fingertips was more disorienting than anything else, a sensation that she couldn't quite place. There were hills and valleys in his skin, thin and numerous as she traced her hand from his belly button to his sternum. She was honestly more concerned with the strain on his face, the way he looked like he was both about to cry but smile at the same time.

For a moment her eyes threatened to dip and he snapped the word from his mouth, "Please." He pressed his hand over hers, stopping the motion right where she could feel the beat of his heart, it racing wildly underneath his tarnished skin. Black Star had told him words, a conversation, but honestly, neither of those were ever his strong suit, so he opted to give her what she wanted, to touch him, even if it would cost him everything.

"It feels different," she murmured.

The word shocked him. _Different. Not disgusting, not weird, not terrible, not terrifying, just different._

Maka searched his face, giving time to see if his harsh effort to hold everything in would give way. Instead, he remained mute, simply squeezing her hand tighter into his chest. "Did it happen in the accident?"

"No," he managed to release from his throat.

"Hey," she murmured softly. "Breathe, Soul." It took some effort but Maka pulled her hand out from under his, bringing them both to his face. "Please, breathe."

Soul pulled the air through his teeth, letting the breath shudder back out. As another uneasy breath came from his lips she rolled towards him, pushing him off his side and onto his back. His arms instantly wrapped around her, refusing to let her get away even though it was the last thing on her mind.

Maka pressed her body against him, a strange euphoria at the moment that was instantly squashed by the new wave of pain on his face. "Can you tell me?"

Another withering breath left his mouth. "I did it."

"Soul…" She reached up a hand and smoothed his hair, wishing there was a way to transfer comfort directly from her fingers. "And you're afraid to let anyone see?"

"If you see it," he grimaced, resisting the urge to just silence himself completely. "It's disgusting. It's too much and you're never going to… you won't be able to take it."

Maka's eyebrows narrowed, her voice suddenly booming at him in that peeved tone she usually reserved for Black Star's idiot antics. "That's not fair."

"What?" Soul blinked, barely being able to register the annoyance she was flinging at him.

"You're making decisions for me," Maka griped. "How do you know I can't take it?"

"Maka," Soul's voice was soft with disbelief. "It's not _normal_."

"Nothing's _normal_," Maka sighed. "Also, what plan did you have other than me rejecting you?"

Between the irritation in her voice and the question, Soul found himself completely stumped. He gaped a few times before finally letting his incredulous answer go, "You see it and you leave. You don't see it, you still think I'm fucking weird, and you leave."

"I don't like either of those options." Maka started to pull herself away, feeling the frantic way he grabbed hold. She was able to get to sitting but he was coming with her, fingers still pressed into the skin of biceps. "I'm going to see it and I'm going to stay."

"Maka…" he groaned desperately.

"I'm sorry." She rubbed a hand over her face, slowly clearing the annoyance with her touch. "I'm not… I'm not saying you _have_ to. Our deal is still on, and if I have to work to get you to show me, I will, but I'm not OK with you thinking you know what I'm going to do. You told me to trust you, so I want the same thing. Trust me."

"Not today," he croaked.

Maka eased forward, pushing his back against the wall as her chest pressed against his. "Not today, then, but now I need you to look me in the eyes."

"Maka…" He forced his eyes to meet hers.

"It's different, but as far as I'm concerned we're even." She pressed her hand to his chest, trying to let the joy of being this close again overtake her, filter into her words. "Your scars we can see, mine we can't. That hasn't stopped you, and it won't stop me."

Again, words were never his strong suit, dissolving in his throat as it closed to force back a sob. Instead, he brought his hands to her face, cupping her jaw to bring her lips to his. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"You're not allowed to apologize," she grumbled back as she pulled his hands from her face. "Just tell me what this feels like." As she pushed his hands down between them, Maka leaned in and began a line of kisses from just below his ear to the collar of his shirt.

"Like I need you," he whispered desperately. "Like I want this to never end."

* * *

Serena was trying not to let it turn into a panic, keeping it just at bay as dizzying anxiety. Soul was coming to the office, and that wasn't necessarily out of the ordinary. She was the one that made that deal in the first place, that if he wanted to live on his own he needed to check-in at least once a week, come out into the bright sunshine and fresh air to trek to the building just to say one or two syllables to his mother or father. He'd followed it loyally, too, although he was more likely to see his father than her, a painful reminder that she hadn't been the perfect mother to him.

Today was different, though. He'd called her, arranged an actual time rather than just appearing so he could get lost in the bustle of meetings and clients. Not to mention he'd made sure it was noon, necessitating her to order food and anticipate a lunch date with her son. Scott had oddly begged off, giving her an even stranger cryptic reply of, "You enjoy some time with your son," before making sure to schedule a meeting in the same slot. The struggle against the developing concern seemed endless.

That is, until Soul walked into the office, groomed and with a soft smile on his face. She could read his own apprehension but it wasn't exactly worry but more nervous embarrassment, a little bit of rosiness starting on his cheeks immediately as he walked in. "Hello, darling," she cooed, offering him a hug that he accepted, those usually motionless hands giving back what he was receiving.

"Hey, Mom." He didn't let the hug last too long, instead drawing a hand over the spread she'd put out on the conference room table. "Is the whole office joining us for lunch?"

Serena huffed before sitting down in one of the conference chairs. "Well, I assumed what you didn't eat I might be able to talk Black Star and Liz into finishing."

He followed her lead but sat across from her, hands folding behind his head as he eased the chair back. "That's right, you're a tight crew now, huh? Black Star told me he talks to you weekly," Soul raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"And Liz just about every other day," Serena added. "And I will embrace the guilt of being a nosey mother especially since Black Star was more about keeping tabs on you, but you know Liz could use some mothering."

"Yeah," he sighed as he tried to blow off the dark voice whispering in his ear about his own needs for mothering. _That's not what I'm here for._ "About keeping tabs, mom…"

Serena slipped a hand to her mouth as a precaution, her habit of instantaneous replies often driving her sons in the opposite direction of her intention.

"Look," Soul let his eyes drift away from her, focused on the grain of the table, "I know you saw _something_ the other morning, after the party."

_Something is right_, she wanted to snap but let her fingers reign it in. "Your father and I did."

"Well, that's…" How many times did he practice this in his head? Even with that all of the words turned to sand in his mouth, making him pause for breath as if that would bring them back to life. "So, I guess, just what you assumed is probably right."

Serena blinked at her son before letting out a soft, breathy laugh. "How about a simple yes or no? What I assumed is that you're with her, Maka Albarn. Am I correct?"

"Yes," Soul mumbled. "But-"

"And it's going well?" Serena leaned forward, reaching her hand out to her son.

All the argument he had expected that he prepped for wasn't there, and he suddenly found himself floundering against such a mundane question. Without thinking, he took her hand to anchor himself into the normalcy of the conversation. "You know the first time you met her? When I told you I was in trouble?"

Serena smiled softly, focused on the connection of their fingers. "Yes, but I assume you apologized."

"I did, and since then, I just… Mom, I'm not keeping secrets from her. She knows about Wes, about the hospital, about, well, most of the stuff." _Not all_, since he still hadn't had the guts to let her see, just touch and what agony that was. But definitely an agony he wasn't going to share with his mom.

First, there was the wave of jealousy again that she was quickly able to squash, but the sudden urge to cry was more difficult and Serena found herself pressing her hand to her mouth again. "That's wonderful, darling. That's really…" It was impossible to fight against it and the tears hit her cheeks.

"Mom," Soul was squeezing her hand, the anxiety of telling her fading away in the face of her tears.

Serena cleared them from her face as she put on the smile she always reserved for him, the one that had only appeared after he was born. "I'm just worried," she refused to let her voice falter into a whisper. "Foolishly worried." Serena pulled her hand away from his, using it to clear the tears from her cheeks. "But I'm bound to be that and I'm already feeling awfully nosey. So I'll insist that you tell me what she's like."

"You met her," Soul offered quietly.

"Yes, but only twice and only for a second each time," she reminded as she leaned on her elbow, that smile widening. "At least three facts that I don't know, please."

Soul brought his hand back to fidget at the wrinkles in his pants. This line of questioning tossed his stomach like a ship at sea. He'd never had to put her into words, form her into anything other than what she was because how could he? And how lame would it sound if he admitted that the best way he could describe her was she was that feeling that you got when the sun hit your face for the first time? "She goes to school with Black Star and Liz. They've actually been hanging out the past year."

Serena raised a finger in reply, her smile pleasantly stretching.

Soul's eyes focused on the table, drifting from dish to dish. "She's teaching me to cook for myself."

"Oh," Serena cooed. "Really?"

"Yeah," he couldn't help the dreamy smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. "I made her lunch the other day."

If Soul had been looking at Serena he would have noticed a new glow, much of that worry starting to be shelved. "And you didn't burn down the kitchen?"

"Made a mess," Soul chuckled, "but no fires." He took a second to meet her eyes and found that he desperately wanted to feed her smile. "I guess last is she works at a bookstore. I'm pretty sure if she could she'd just read all the time. You leave her alone for a second and you come back to always find her with a book in her lap."

Serena chuckled softly, "How does that go with your movie obsession?"

Soul shrugged, "I thought it was impossible but she can tune it out. Once her eyes are on that page she's gone." He let a few memories drift over his mind, the way it felt to have her pressed against him, the book almost in his lap so she could put her head just right on his shoulder.

Serena knew how the next line would fall but couldn't stop it from leaving her lips, "And you, darling, you're happy?"

This was always the hardest question, happiness such a muddled word for Soul. That was a slippery, intangible thing for him, but had he felt it since she came around? "I think I can be," he murmured.

She only offered a thoughtful hum in reply. "Alright, I tortured you enough. Will you eat or…?"

"I'll stay, Mom." This succeeded in exploding the grin across her face, leaving Soul to bask a little in the glow and the thought that regardless of the awkwardness he'd offered her a part of his life again.

Serena allowed for his silence, filling it with jumbles of information she'd compiled since the last time they had met. Soul chewed thoughtfully through each one, offering only his regular monosyllabic replies in return. The reports began to run dry and Soul fidgeted in the subsequent quiet, no comfort in the lack of his mother's melodic voice.

Soul finally cleared his throat, offering his hand back to her. "Mom, the thing with Maka…"

Serena tried to hold it in, tried to focus just on the renewed touch with her son.

"I think," he huffed, trying to find some of the courage that he had thought he'd come in the room with. "I want to talk to you, too, Mom. I know I didn't give you the chance, and I should, so I want to try."

A trembling breath left her lips. "I didn't exactly give you a reason to," she murmured as she squeezed his fingers in hers. "But, please, let's try."


	18. Say by Junny

OK, possible **trigger warning**, since there's more discussion of **self-injury**, but also some **sexual content** today. Enjoy.

* * *

It was Serena's fault, since at the very last moment as he was almost out of the door she'd planted the stupid idea. "_Why don't you take her out somewhere nice?"_

Soul met her at the door with sweaty palms and feet that could barely stand still. He'd called her early that morning and done what he'd never, ever done before: told her to put on her nicest dress because he was actually going to listen to his mother. You would think that asking his, for lack of a less stereotypical word, girlfriend on a date would have been the easiest thing in the world but instead, he'd done exactly what he was best at, agonizing over every last detail. The fact that as soon as she laid eyes on him the giggling started didn't help things either.

Maka tried to tone down the utter amusement at his nonsensical worry, pressing a hand to her mouth as she let him shoo her directly back out of the apartment. "You're wearing a tie," she couldn't stop the renewed laughter as she reached for it and got her hand swatted away.

"And you're wearing a dress." He rolled his eyes at himself, _As if that was anything close to a tease._

"Do you like it?" She twirled, letting him breathlessly watch as the fabric rode up her thigh.

He made sure to wipe his palm on his pants first before wrapping it around her wrist, tugging her back just enough to get her to pause. His other arm snaked around her waist, steadying her so he could leave a kiss on her cheek. "You're beautiful. And don't give me the '_you look handsome, too'_ thing back, I don't want it."

Another dizzy little laugh left her lips before she covered the blush on her cheeks. "No compliments allowed?"

"Absolutely not," he muttered as he fiddled with the fabric around his neck. He let his other hand slip from her waist to connect with hers, continuing the arduous process of walking her to the restaurant.

"I'll save them for later after you've taken it off."

Soul had to do a double-take, floored by that coy little smile that hit her lips compounded with the insinuation of undressing. He wanted it, God did he ever want to get undressed with her, but even with her scolding the other day he could still only envision disgust on her face as soon as his shirt hit the floor. _I want it, though, I want it so badly that I have to try. I have to give it a chance._

It was one of those painfully hip, contemporary American restaurants that he pulled her in to, another pick from his mother. He was safe to follow any of her suggestions because while her looks usually would make one assume differently, Serena wasn't necessarily about the ambiance and was more often led by her stomach more than anything else. In his mind he inserted another one of her favorite phrases, '_Thank God for my personal trainer.'_

As soon as they entered, Maka gave him an inquisitive pump of her eyebrows, pursing her lips as if she was going to whistle at the grandiosity. Soul ignored the playful mocking, continuing the walk to the hostess who led them back past the bar and into the dining room. As she sat he noticed that Maka had held onto that smile, a thin blush starting on her cheeks and he felt his heart betray him, beating up and out of his chest, crushing out any even remotely suave words he had on deck.

"So," Maka leaned forward but still kept her prim and proper, no elbows on the table posture. "What's the occasion, Soul?"

"It's not like this is our first time out," the grumble he tried to elicit seemed more like choking from his throat.

"No," that smile blossomed further, "but you haven't been this nervous since our first date _ever_, the Thai place, remember?"

"Because that wasn't a date, Maka," he huffed. "That was you trying to train a socially inept-"

"Ouch," she cut him off quickly. "That wasn't a date? Come on, Soul, let me have that one. We can call all the pizza place dates social experiments, but I want that one as our first date, please."

Soul's grimace stretched as her smile strengthened. "You want that as a date? I was a mess."

"A cute mess," Maka corrected. "And I was a little, too, remember?"

He leaned back in his chair, remembering his first experience with her on-off switch, the mention of meeting Liz and Black Star. That was still muddy, and as far as the deal was concerned she only had two weeks left to clear it away. "OK, it was a date, but I don't want to say it was our first."

"Meeting at the apartment can't count," she almost put on a playful pout, a plumping of her lip that Soul had trouble not concentrating on.

Soul had to run his hands along his pant legs to erase the moisture on his palms before offering one to her, reaching across the table and instantly getting her hand. "The piano bench. I want that as our first."

Maka had a million cute witticisms on deck for this evening and had practiced a bunch of teasing her head since he'd floated the 'dress nice' idea but all of it fluttered away like the muscle in her stomach. "Oh." That line of blush turned into a field, taking over her cheeks completely. "Oh, Soul, that's…"

"You don't like it?" He toyed with her fingers nervously.

This was one of those moments when she wished they were at home so she could bury her face against his neck and just melt into him, sending that skin to skin message of the way he made her heart race. "You're a hopeless romantic, aren't you?" she murmured.

"No," he balked. "I just, that's when we met. Firsts should come at the beginning."

"You're lying," she cooed. "But I'll forgive you because it's the best idea you've had since this date."

Soul was trying to look peeved but the smile was peeking through which he tried to hide with the menu, suddenly much more interested in the type on the page than the conversation. She let him be, perusing it herself as her fingers made lines in his palm. While Maka shared Serena's stomach-driven habits, she still wasn't that focused on the idea of a meal, no matter how fancy. Again, her mind wandered towards wishing they were alone, wishing she could fold into him as they did in bed at night. It was starting to become more than that in her daydreams, but only there since his practice was still fairly reserved and required sweet pushing and prompting to get him to go further than just gliding over what she considered safe zones. It was relief and want all rolled into one. He had done his job of convincing her he'd go at her pace, and she was slowly moving towards setting it.

"You're blushing," he grinned over the menu.

"Am not," she snapped, quickly raising her menu to cover her cheeks.

"Now who's lying," he chuckled back as he grabbed her playful fingers, now clutching her hand in his. "Just as long as it's good stuff, you know, that you're thinking about."

She let her eyes linger over his, finding a strange soothing in that piercing red. "It is."

The rest of dinner went without a hitch, Soul starting to feel that mostly unfamiliar confidence in himself. _Every moment of this, every second of our date, I did it right,_ was the strange thought that continued to float through his mind. And as they exited the restaurant, both stuffed to the gills and just buzzed enough from the wine, Soul's arm wrapped around her waist, walking her closely, tightly to him rather than that loose hand. Getting home like that was slow, their pace cut by his want for closeness, but Maka couldn't argue, feeling his fingers burning into her side. He only detached from her for the stairs, since that was a recipe for a broken neck, and settled for watching her ascend in front of him, her dress swishing against the back of her legs.

Their silence was comfortable because there was a routine to it. As soon as the door to the apartment opened, Maka headed for the bedroom and waited for him. Soul gathered his pajamas, the trusty old t-shirt and basketball short combo, before moving across the hall to change separately in the studio behind the closed, locked door. Maka changed into a similar combination, only closing the door but not locking, making herself not watch the knob because what was the point? _Because if he comes in, he'd never hurt me. He'd never just take, just use, just leave._ With that thought, she plopped down on the bed, watching the door, waiting.

Soul entered slowly, tossing his clothes in the hamper. This was where routine abruptly and unexpectedly ended. Maka watched him carefully from the bed, the way his fists opened and closed at his side, his eyes trailing everywhere in the room but her. "What is it?" She wanted to reach for him but she was sure even with her fingers on him he'd be inaccessible.

"I'm going to take off my shirt," he murmured.

"OK." She wanted to rein in her smile in some sort of respect for his nervousness but she couldn't keep it from beaming. There was no way in hell he was going to look at her face anyway, so she let it be, let it glow in hopes that he could somehow feel it.

"Maka, please…" He wanted to have it all disappeared, the empty canvas of skin that he used to remember, but more so he needed her to be telling the truth, needed her to stay. The usual task of taking off his shirt became agonizingly difficult, panicked breaths starting to spurt from his lips as the fabric started its slow crawl.

"It's OK, keep going," she murmured.

He held his breath to dive into the deep end, inching the cloth up to his stomach, chest, and finally over his head. There was no relaxing, his fingers clenching into the material of the shirt as he held it at his side. His lungs were burning but he couldn't let the air go.

"Totally not fair," she said with a short little laugh, prompting his eyes to her.

"What?"

"Your abs," she pointed at his stomach before prodding at her own. "I know you work out half as much as I do and I still have a gut and you're _ripped._ How? Totally not fair, Soul."

"You don't have a gut," he spat back until his mind could catch up with the rest. "Stop joking with me, Maka, what about…?"

"I'm not joking." She slowly moved to her feet, afraid that sudden action might force him into bolting like a wild horse. "It's technically just the first thing I noticed." After a few aching steps, watching as his eyes darted from her to his chest at a dizzying pace, Maka was close enough to trail a finger along one of the thousands of lines that darted across his chest. It was nothing more than pinkish or white hash marks all over his skin, so many that she'd have to give herself until sunrise to do it justice. She had friends in the past who had a few faded white lines that took effort to see, but Soul was right in seeing these as obvious, multitudinous.

"Tell me the truth," his voice barely trembled out.

She sighed slowly, letting her fingers climb up his chest as she continued to map the grooves. "I'm scared." A sickly groaning sound choked out of his throat but before he could take a step back, Maka was grabbing at his shoulders, pulling against his will to push her away. "I'm afraid _for _you, not _of_ you."

"What?" Again, the incredulity was there and this time as he finally looked her in the face, eyes searching hers.

"The accident, you trying to kill yourself, the cutting. All of it scares me," the pleading was starting to break through her voice, "but that's because I'm worried _for _you. I don't want you in that kind of pain anymore. It's not that I'm scared of you. You're not a monster."

"It's _disgusting_," he spat back.

"Different," the sharp tone of her word disintegrated the other. "And I'll get used to it, the more I see you, the more I get to touch you." She let her fingers trickle down from his shoulders back to his chest. The next question on her lips felt dangerous, and she wet them with her tongue before forcing it forward. "How long has it been since you hurt yourself?"

He could still practically break it down to the hour, the minute for her, but he stuck with the easiest. "Since before the hospital."

That urged a sigh of relief from her throat just in time for the next difficult question to build. "Do you still think about it?"

Lying here would be the easiest. That's how it always was at the hospital, putting on a good enough face to make sure that everyone else would let it go, let him go. Staring into her eyes turned that urge into a flimsy pipe-dream. "It's like… ask any sober alcoholic '_Do you want to drink?'_ and the answer's always going to be '_yes'_ because that's just when the world feels right. But you know that when you do that, it fucks everything up, so you can't. You hold back. But thinking about it, the thinking about it never goes away."

"Every day?" Maka murmured.

"No," his head was slow to shake, another sigh collapsing his chest. "It used to be, especially in the hospital. Sometimes it's still the gut reaction, like when I was pinching myself."

"And you stopped that, too." Her fingers tapped at his chest as she tried to bring back the infectiousness of her smile. "You're getting better."

"I am." His hands were trembling as he brought them to her face, tensing them along her jawline. "But I could go back. I have bad days, you saw that, and I could just…"

"You could fall off the wagon," Maka nodded. "I know, I get it."

Soul was wracking his brain for the words to make her understand the seriousness since it seemed like she wasn't getting the fact that this could be just a colossal waste of her time, her energy, her life, to try to love him in spite of it all. He was coming up dumb, nothing but the growing urge to kiss her coming to mind. _But I can't, I shouldn't. How could she want to be kissed after this? Looking at this?_

"Can I…" Maka bit her lip, taking in a deep breath through her nose before releasing it. "Can I take off my shirt now, too?"

That sent a flare of heat from her fingertips on his chest to his face. "What?"

"I know you're probably not ready for pants yet, I mean, I'm honestly not sure I'm ready for my pants yet, to be fair but…" She took his hands from her face, getting them to release so she could take a step back. Without waiting for his acknowledgment she slipped off her t-shirt, freely letting it flutter from her fingertips to the floor. "It's only fair, right?"

"Fair?" He wasn't proud of the squeaky quality in his voice or the way his eyes definitely bugged from his head. Soul was too busy absorbing the sight to calculate how long it had actually been since he'd seen breasts, even porn since when was the last time he really had the drive. But Maka's were perfect, just divinely rounded and little-more-than-a-handful size. Suddenly he realized how much his eyes had been lingering and he shot them back to her face, ready for the inevitable disappointment. Instead, Maka wasn't even looking, her eyes focused to the left and out the window, a furious blush on her cheeks. It took every last ounce of breath in his lungs and it still barely came out above a whisper, "Can we practice?"

Maka finally brought her eyes to his and looking at him was like a reflection in a mirror, face flushed, eyes hesitant but needy. "As long as I can get to touch, too."

He nodded slowly as his hands reached for her, settling on her waist to move her as if she needed the motivation to take the couple steps back to the bed. She tumbled out of his grasp, falling back into the mound of unmade sheets as he followed close behind. Maka assumed the regular position, laying on her back as he came to his side, fingers hovering over her stomach. "I guess, a touch for a touch?"

Maka nodded before grabbing at his wrist, trailing the fingers to start higher than their original destination, hanging right over her breast. "Please."

The anxiety was on par with that first-ever time when you're young and you're making out and unsure of boundaries but fueled by absurdly hormonal wants and needs. At the same time, rational Soul wanted to be tender and take his time, not fondle her like some idiot teenager in the back of a car. He lowered his hand slowly, falling flush with the swell of her breast, cupping but not squeezing as his thumb brushed over her nipple. A gasp left her lips, sending him halfway to panic. "Maka-"

She grasped his wrist tighter, keeping his hand in place before slowly letting go. "It feels good. It's…" she let out a breathy sigh before shifting her legs against the sheets. "The thumb again, do the thumb."

A bewildered smile started to tug at the corner of his lips. "Tell me when to stop." He brought his thumb back, making tiny revolutions around her peak, feeling it harden as her breath came out in another trembling sigh. Maka released her hand from his wrist, resting her fingertips just above the waistband of his shorts then drifting them along his rib cage. It didn't elicit the same kind of heated sound from his mouth, just something close to a grunt. She let them wander all the way to his chest, mimicking his action as she traced a finger around his nipple. A rough laugh left his throat, "Doesn't work the same way for guys, I think."

"What does, then?"

"Touching you," he murmured as he leaned in closer. "Can I kiss you?"

"Only if you don't stop." She didn't wait for what she could assume was going to be a smart quip, rolling herself on her side to meet his lips. That cupping hand moved to a soft kneading, his thumb tentatively capturing her nipple against his forefinger.

He pulled back from the kiss just in time to miss swallowing her moan. "Please tell me that was a good sound."

"Again." Maka was pressing closer, barely leaving him enough space to do as requested as she tried to get her chest flush with his.

That was a new sensation that threatened to swallow him whole, the feeling of her delicate, perfect skin against the marred mess of his chest. But at that moment he could forget it, focus just the heat searing through him, the idea that it was her and him, not with some sickness laying between them. It drifted directly to his head, teasing away his focus long enough for the insane drivel to leave his mouth, "I want to make you cum."

"What?" She was panting breathlessly against his lips, her hand just coming up into his hair to play.

_Oh, fuck_, came the withered groan from his mind but he tried to shake it off, inhaling a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I know you said you probably weren't even ready for, well, anything below the belt, but fuck, Maka, if you'll let me I want to. I'll do it whatever way you want, whatever way you like, just, I want you to feel good."

Fear gripped him as she started to pull away, but it was only just to see his eyes, to put some focus into a moment that was overrun with bodies that weren't exactly full of rationality. "What about you?" Her fingers played in his hair, smoothing it from his forehead.

He tipped his chin as he barely caught her lips, "Just you tonight, please."

"Then, no." That sentence could only warble from her mouth. That word never seemed to be part of her vocabulary, not in any bed or in front of a man, and at that moment every last ounce of fear in her threatened to swell to a climax.

"Alright." He didn't sigh, he didn't groan, only his lips changed into a hazy, sweet smile. "I guess I have to get my shit together a little more if I want to make you happy."

Her fingers tangled into his hair, pulling his lips back to hers to pick up where they left off, to bring back that wave of pleasure. She wondered if he realized how much fear had just gripped her, threatened to pull her under and how suddenly it was whisked away. Half by his actions, but also by the fact that she had somehow developed the courage to do it. That maybe she wasn't the Maka of last year that disgusted her so much.

The kissing would never cool, the press between their bodies only creating a kind of euphoric discomfort, pent-up energy going nowhere. Even with all that as she finally coaxed her lips from his, all she could murmur was, "I am happy."


	19. Eat by ZionT

HUGE update with a very much needed injection of drama to replace the constant romantic drivel I've given you. Trigger warning for **sexual assault**, **self-injury.**

* * *

"Come on." Maka was tugging on his hand like a kid at the park, dragging him across the lawn to yet another building that looked just like all the rest to him.

It had been her idea to show him around campus again, somehow trying to smooth out the feelings left behind from his last visit. That same old bitterness was still at the back of his throat, but Soul was trying to focus on the feeling of her hand, to steal the exuberance right from her fingertips. "Slow down, it's not going anywhere."

"But if we get there early enough Professor Mjolnir will be there, and she could open one of the studios!" Maka kept urging, bringing him through the door into the much wished for air conditioning, letting him breathe a sigh of relief as he pulled at his t-shirt to billow in some of the cooler air.

"Maka, I don't have to see a studio, I'm guessing it's-"

"It'll help," she chirped. "I've seen the way you drool over equipment."

"I don't drool," he grumbled out the lie, unconvincing to both of them. "And why is a Professor here over the summer, anyway?"

"Well, summer classes, but she has a toddler at home, too," Maka laughed. "It's a little peace and quiet."

He tugged at her hand, getting her eyes to focus back on him as they paused in the stairwell. "How do you even know that?"

"People tell me things," Maka shrugged. "I always thought it was because I talk a lot, so people feel like they have to talk back, but Liz has always said that people just talk to me."

That sent his mind churning, especially as she guided him down the stairs to the basement offices. Why had he talked to her? The history was there, but it was 15 minutes worth of past so it's not like she wasn't a stranger the first time he'd spilled a tidbit about his problems. He was coming to the slow decision that it was a quality in her, something that pulled anyone's darkness out for display, but not just to show but to soothe. He was lost in that thought when she stopped short at a door, sending him squealing to a stop on his heels.

"Professor Mjolnir?" Maka punctuated the coaxing quality of her voice with a soft knock.

"Come in," came a tired voice from within.

Maka happily opened it to uncover a blond woman lounging back in her office chair, a cup of coffee clutched protectively to her chest. With a strange kind of wonder, Soul noticed the different colors of her eyes, one a light brown while the other shone almost golden. "Hello, Professor Mjolnir!"

"Maka," some of the exhaustion slipped from the woman's face. "And I thought I told you to call me Marie."

"And I told you I'd definitely wouldn't be able to," Maka laughed softly before waving her hand towards Soul. "This is Soul Evans. He's starting here next semester. Do you mind if I show him one of the studios?"

"Evans…" Marie was not only scanning him but their connected hands, gathering a plethora of tantalizing information.

"It's a common last name-" Maka twittered.

"But it is the one you're thinking of," Soul finished for her, squeezing her hand. "Scott and Serena Evans are my parents."

"Well, welcome, since you're _with_ Maka I'll assume that a big name doesn't mean a big ego." Marie slowly rested her coffee on her desk before she stood. "So I'll let you into one of the studios." She squeezed past Maka, using the closeness to send a playful smile her way before starting down the hallway.

Maka dragged Soul after as the last conversation replayed over in her mind. He suddenly hadn't been afraid or worried about the implications and while she found herself slightly jealous of the openness there was also a strange elation. _It's like he's alright with himself. Like he doesn't have to hide what or who he is anymore._

Marie slowed at one of the doors, taking a set of keys out of her pocket before shuffling through for the right one. "I'm going to keep it locked, so when you leave just make sure no one sneaks in behind you. If another Professor or adjunct comes along they might kick you out though."

"That's fine, really just letting him pine over the equipment," Maka grinned.

"I'm not in love with electronics," he grumbled but as soon as the door opened squeezed past, actually eager to set his hands on the mixing board.

"So he says," Maka shot over her shoulder to Marie, earning a laugh before the other woman turned back to the hallway and let the door shut the two of them in.

"This is fine," he attempted not to coo, to give into the _oohing_ and _aahing_ that Maka was waiting for. He still had a little dignity left.

"Fine," she huffed. "Just fine?"

"Fine," he repeated as he tried to tramp down the smirk that was curling up his lips.

"You're impossible!" Her added hands thrown in the air were completely missed as he focused again on the board, fingers running along knobs and keys. Maka amused herself with going into the sound booth, tinkering around with the various stands and papers left behind. Absently, she started to sing, letting that song she'd written for him make another appearance.

"Hey," Soul called between the glass. "Little louder, can't hear you out here."

Maka smiled as she turned in his direction while belting louder, the song reverberating through the room. Maka paused the song, calling out to him, "You know, Black Star never did write his part."

"Then sing the ending without it, I want to hear it," he grinned.

She obliged, her swelling voice hiding the sound of the door opening, keys unlocking but relocking, along with the heavy boots that tramped in through the doorway. The look of fear on Maka's face, or the look that flashed there before she quickly covered it with a grimace, was what made Soul turn his head first before the sharp finger even poked him in the shoulder.

The man's hair looked even more out of control than Soul's and it should have been laughable except for how it simply added another level of sharpness to his features. His brown eyes looked like they should be calming, soothing, but instead, there was nothing but coldness in them. "So you're the new one, huh?"

"New what?" Soul tried to keep that even, cool temper to his voice.

It was as if he hadn't asked the question, the man more of the type that liked to hear himself talk than enjoyed being spoken with. "She's beautiful, isn't she? Really, just the sweetest little thing on two long, luscious legs. Though we probably can both admit that the studio isn't where she's her best."

Soul looked back at the booth, his eyes narrowing at Maka's frozen posture, her hands clenched into the stand. He started a slow stand from his seat, his eyes focusing back on the man. "Who are you?"

"Giriko," he answered simply. "Just started adjuncting this summer, but spent plenty of time at those record parties your girl used to frequent. Guess she never talked about me, huh? Not a surprise, probably got lost in the mix of all the others along the way." Giriko broke into a bout of laughter, a hand clenching his gut as if it would burst before turning a sharp smile Soul's way. "She fucked you yet?"

Mostly numb was probably the best way that Soul would describe himself when it came to day to day emotions. It was the big waves, like the day in the closet or that night Maka drove him home, that proved there was something still there, and it was usually something that Soul had very little control over. There it was: a deep, seething hatred, a black, spitting anger. Like always it was out of his grasp, a thing that swallowed him whole and all he could do was watch as his fist swung back before pistoning forward, striking Giriko right below his left eye.

That moment finally breathed life into Maka who until then had been trapped in the incessant screams of her own mind. She had been watching everything she built with Soul crumbling in front of her, knowing the words Giriko was going to say before he said them. _Now he knows, there's no hiding, and the fact that you kept the truth from him will be enough_. She had never expected Soul's swing, and as soon as she saw the connection, the way that Giriko's head lurched back, her feet launched forward, bringing her through the door and into the tech room. "Stop!"

That call fell on deaf ears, Soul taking a second swing before Giriko could even right himself. It didn't matter whether or not it was the truth, but as far as Soul was concerned this was _him_, the guy that she flinched from, the one that swelled up in her mind that kept her poisoned with fear and he was going to make him regret it. But two punches were the most he could get in before Giriko was stable enough to hustle around the room as if this were some kind of boxing ring. They had switched places and Soul made the idiot mistake of looking for Maka, to make sure she wasn't trapped on Giriko's side.

The gut shot hit Soul hard, catapulting all of the air from his lungs as he struggled not to double forward. Instead, he felt hands pulling him back, throwing him off balance and almost on to the floor of the hallway as he realized the door was open. The last thing he saw was Maka on the other side of the door as it slammed between them.

"Idiot," Giriko spat before turning his eyes to Maka. "What, got a little guard dog now? He think you're some kind of pretty little princess? You didn't tell him how you spread your legs for-?"

"Stop!" Maka screamed again, her hands coming to Giriko's shirt as she started to push him back away from the door. She sent one glance back at it, watching as the knob rattled uselessly. It was hard to pretend Soul wasn't screaming her name on the other side, but she sucked in a deep breath of air and turned back to Giriko.

"What, don't want your boyfriend to hear?" Giriko cooed before gripping a hand to her waist. "Or maybe you want a little something before I go?"

Maka slapped his hand away as the words viciously spat from her mouth. "Stay the fuck away from me, from him, from my fucking school."

An amused smile parted his lips. "I can't do that, and, you know, I'm feeling awful compelled to go to the Dean's office where I can discuss how some upstart wimp thought punching me in the face was going to make up for his girlfriend being a slut."

The word made her stomach roll but she forced herself to swallow it. "Don't you remember?" Her voice was soft but not delicate. "What happened our night together?"

"What?" His smirk remained untarnished. "Gonna spread some lie about my size? Please, like anyone-"

"No, no, no," Maka shook her finger. "Like most guys you love that proof of conquest, right? That's why you had that little idiot friend of yours record us, right?"

The corner of his mouth ticked before he forced the smile more. "So what?"

Maka slipped her phone out of her pocket, starting to scroll through. "He was a really nice guy, that friend of yours. Stupid enough to send me the video in some attempt at blackmail." She found what she wanted, and brought the clip up on the screen, turning it to him. "See?"

Giriko attempted to grab the phone but Maka's hand was back to her pocket. "Not my only copy, anyway," she punctuated that with a dry laugh. "But, see, that went nowhere for him since, well, do you remember how old I was?"

"Eighteen," Giriko scoffed.

"_Almost_ eighteen," Maka let another laugh tumble from her lips. "And, see, the cops don't actually care about the almost, not when video is involved. Do you see where I'm going with this? Your idiot friend definitely caught on by the time I got here."

"You were eighteen!" Giriko hand shot out, grasping the front of her shirt. "You're full of shit and you wouldn't dare anyway. As soon as that video got out everyone would see you like the little whore you are."

"I don't care," Maka hissed as she put her hand over the top of his. "And I fucking dare you to test me. Go ahead and test how far I'll go to protect him." Giriko ripped away his hand, releasing Maka. She didn't waste the energy on another response, just turning and finally moving the knob, giving Soul enough to almost crash the door open on her.

She barely got out of the way, pushing him in the process back into the hallway, trying to leave all the pain and tumult behind. Going back through the door was like walking on sand, his feet not able to find purchase as she rammed him back, the door snapping shut behind her. "Maka-"

"You idiot!" She couldn't stop it from being anything more than a wild scream, her hands digging into his shirt so she could shake him. "You complete fucking idiot!" The tears burned down her cheeks, the second scream choking off into a wild sob.

"Maka…" He grabbed her elbows, trying to steady her as she stopped shaking him.

Maka brought her hands back to clear her face, breaking the grip on her arms as she took a shaky step back. "You can't just punch someone! Do you know the amount of trouble you could get in? Kicked out of school or what if he called the cops? Why, why would you do that?"

The deep breaths he attempted did nothing, that burning ball of rage still not satiated, "I was protecting you! I wasn't going to let him say those things about you!"

His tone hit her like a shockwave, snapping herself out of the moment, finally seeing the broiling fury under the surface of his crimson eyes. "You shouldn't," it was a whisper, almost silent in comparison to the screams. "It's just… I'm not worth ruining your future over, Soul. You can't do that, not for me. Not just to stop someone from saying what's really just the truth." She wished that stabbing feeling was real, that this was what bleeding out was like.

"But you're…" _One of the most important people in the world to me_, but the words plugged up in his throat.

"I'm _nothing_." The emphasis sent another twist of pain in her gut, another wash of tears down her cheeks. "And you put everything on the line for that. You can't. I took care of it this time but, Soul, you can't."

Soul reached for her again, unsure of what he would even do with his fingers when they did meet her, tempted to just pull her as tightly as possible. "But, Maka-"

"No," she groaned as she side-stepped his touch, getting closer to the stairwell, closer to getting out of this moment entirely. "I just… I'm going to go. I'm going to go to Liz's and…" she choked on the idea as another horrible thought flashed in her mind.

"What? I can take you home. _We _can go _home,_" Soul spat, the reality of it hitting him harder than Giriko as she took another step back, her head shaking.

"I… I took so much of your time," Maka murmured. If she hadn't turned, Maka would have seen the desperation on his face, his hands reaching for her with the intent to pull her in and refuse to let go, but she did. The door to the stairwell was in front of her and she took it, breaking into a run as soon as she heard the metal clank behind her.

Maka didn't stop when the sun hit her face or when the stifling heat instantly made the sweat spring from her brow, just kept running until she hit the next building. She slipped inside, hoping for the cool air and to not hear him scream her name. All she could do was duck into another stairwell and crouch, letting the horrible moment all come back to her along with that final, terrible thought that had finally crossed her mind. She swallowed thickly, taking out her phone and feeling it already start to buzz, his name already on the screen.

She hit decline. It made her gut tremble and the tears that she wasn't even considering yet stream down her cheeks. She had to decline it three more times before she could reach Liz's name, listening to the ring with the beep of his call waiting in the background echoing it. "Hey, I thought you were with Soul today," Liz's voice gave away an honest surprise.

"Come get me, please, Liz," she murmured.

"What? Where are you?" That mild surprise was now a full-blown panic and Maka could hear the frantic movement starting on the other side.

"I'm at school. And call Black Star, please. Soul needs him because I can't-" A sob choked out the rest of the words, Maka struggling for a rattling breath to replace it.

"Maka, where's Soul? What happened?"

The only answer was the line cutting out, Maka's breath for words completely overrun with sobs.

* * *

Soul could hear the cursing from his bed, the panicked struggle with his front door that told him it was Black Star using his extra key. He flipped the razorblade in his fingers and sighed, waiting for the lock to unlatch. "Soul _fucking _Evans!" came booming after the click and pounding feet made their way down the hallway. Soul waited until he saw the sneakers in the doorway, tossing the sharp piece of metal from his hand to the floor in front of them. The blue-haired boy knelt, picking up the blade and sucking his teeth at it. "Do we have to go to the hospital?"

"I didn't do it," Soul muttered, moving his eyes from the shoes to the ceiling as he threw himself back on the bed.

"At least this day isn't a total shit-show." Black Star carefully pocketed the razor letting out a long, low sigh and sat on the bed next to Soul, looking down at those red eyes. "Called you like eighty times, dude."

"I know." The words barely left his lips, the effort of talking feeling like a marathon he didn't want to run. He wanted the blade back, he wanted that easy short release to this whole muddled mess he was going to have to bury inside.

Black Star wasn't one to mince truths so he threw the words out, "Maka's with Liz."

Soul's only answer was the wince of that name hitting him like a baseball bat.

Black Star put a solid hand on Soul's shoulder. "She told me-"

"She's not coming back so there's no point," Soul suddenly spouted as he sat up from the bed, his voice hoarse. "So just shut up about her. I don't want to hear it."

"Hey," Black Star put his hands up in defeat. "Chill out, Soul, it's going to be OK."

"OK?" He shrieked. "This is OK? That _asshole_, what he said about her, what he probably _did_ to her and she-"

"Didn't want you to fight that battle for her, man," Black Star sighed. "I can't say how she handled the aftermath was any good, but I don't think Giriko's bothering her or you again. And that's at least something she can be proud of. You were kind of stupid, throwing that punch."

"He hurt her," the words ground against the back of his throat as a guttural growl.

Black Star's laugh was short but still definitely tickled with amusement. "Guess you never grew out of the overprotectiveness, it was just hiding." Soul sent him a glare still saturated in the leftover rage. "I told you to chill out. Look, it's going to be fucked for a little, but… let's just wait for Liz, OK?"

"She shouldn't leave her," Soul muttered as he wiped the glare from his face with his hand. He let its mate join in, trying to rub away all the idiotic thoughts clouding his mind.

Black Star took his phone out of his pocket, absently checking the screen for the text. "She's just waiting for Spirit, then she's on her way over here."

"Her dad?" Soul tried to press but he knew that look on Black Star's face, the mouth taped shut. "What's going on?"

"Let's wait for Liz," Black Star repeated. "I was more worried about what I almost found you doing, man." Black Star's voice was soft and his hand hesitantly came to Soul's shoulder again. "I know it doesn't mean shit but I'm glad you didn't. You haven't in a while, right? Since the hospital?"

"Yeah," Soul murmured, throwing a tentative glance at Black Star. "And I shouldn't have been thinking about it now."

"Man, you were at an all-time low. Easy time to fall back into old habits." His grip tightened on Soul's shoulder. "But it's going to be OK."

"You keep saying that, but…" Soul felt the sting and rubbed at his eyes, preempting it, trying to keep the full-blown tears from erupting. "I don't know, the last thing she said, she said she was nothing, that she took so much of my time, doesn't that mean…?"

"That she's totally in you-grade self-loathing mode, yeah." Black Star patted at his shoulder again. "Like I said, didn't handle the aftermath well, but you get it? She fucked a lot of guys-"

"Don't say it that way," he snapped. "And like I fucking care. She… _none_ of that matters to me."

"I know," Black Star shrugged before glancing at his phone again, feeling it vibrate just as he flipped his wrist. "OK, Liz is on her way. Let's make some tea or some shit she'll like. She's going to be in a bad mood."

Soul sighed in reply, slinking from the bed achingly slow as he started for the kitchen. Black Star followed behind him, tapping on his screen and sending the obligatory, '_see you soon'_ message back to Liz. He took another second to shoot something borderline scandalous to Tsubaki, trying to even out his mood about this entire endeavor. He'd need her tonight, just to clear away all the old shit that the first moment at Soul's apartment door brought flooding back. He also just needed her in the purest form of the word.

Black Star watched Soul perform the domestics from the doorway of the kitchen. It was smart to give Soul something to do, but even more so to have a peace offering for Liz, spurring the last bit of pride that Black Star was going to have for the day. He knew possible paths this could take and watching his best friend have a mental breakdown was not what he had slated for tonight. If he was the kind of guy to cross his fingers, he would have, but instead, he strung along a list of curses in his head, threatening Maka from afar. _Don't hurt him. Do the right thing. Get your shit together._

By the time they'd moved into the living room and Black Star was about to compliment, or maybe closer to mock Soul on his tea ceremony arrangement skills, the door popped open, Liz sighing with the weight of it and the moment coming. "Everything OK over here?" she called out hopefully from the hallway.

"We were at a level 3 meltdown, down to a 1 right now," Black Star replied as Soul _hmphed_.

"Good." Liz appeared, pausing in the doorway to appreciate the at least normal look to the both of them, no tears, no freshly punched faces, no blood. "Is that for me?"

Soul managed to roll his eyes, pouring the amber liquid in the cup for her before offering it up. Liz sat next to him first, forcing him to bring the cup back to her level. Liz took it, blowing thoughtfully before tentatively taking a sip.

Soul was careful not to tip that cup when he grabbed at her free hand. "What's going on?"

Liz let her sigh cool her tea before bringing it away from her lips. "I'm supposed to give you this first." She sunk a hand into her pocket, taking out a slightly crinkled envelope.

"What's going on?" This time he was only a hair below a yell, snatching the letter from her fingers but wrinkling it further into his fist.

"Hey, hey!" Liz put her tea down, instantly going to unfold his fingers. "That's her letter to you. But fine, OK, let me sum up I guess the rest of it before since you're insane: she's sorry, she wants to be here, but the best idea right now is that she goes away for, I don't know, I hope a little bit."

"Goes away?" Soul couldn't stop himself from crumbling the letter further, his nails digging into the skin of his palm.

Liz brought her hand to his face as she gently patted his cheek. "Yeah, not the year like you, but maybe a week, depending on what the doctors say."

All of it withered away from Soul, the rage, the confusion, just to leave behind an ache so great that it filled whatever space was leftover. "What?"

"Well, she was hurting, you knew that," Liz had brought the volume down to a whisper. "She finally realized she needed more help than she was asking for, you know?"

"Oh, fuck," he moaned out as his hands relaxed, letting the paper fall from his palm so he could bring it to his face to hide the tears that weren't just threatening anymore.

"Hey, it's a good thing," Liz murmured, moving her hand to smooth his hair. "She wants to face it all. That's good, that's healthy. And the rest, well, I think you should kind of read the letter."

Soul felt the couch move and he brought his head from his hands in time to see Black Star sink in next to him. They pressed him between them shoulder to shoulder as Liz untangled the mess he'd made of the letter and handed it back to him. Maka had this perfect type of writing, like one of those fancy fonts on the computer that somehow always stayed straight even without lines on the page. He stared at his name on the front for a while, feeling the two of them squirm next to him, Liz bringing back her tea and Black Star throwing an unnecessary but begrudgingly appreciated arm around his shoulder. He tore open the back of the envelope carefully, pulling out the wrinkled paper inside.

"_I don't know how convincing I can be on paper, but I hope you'll listen (not that I feel like I deserve it right now)."_

He stopped for a second, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath, overwhelmed by the fact that he felt like he could hear her in his head like this wasn't some written thing but her whispering in his ear. Soul wiped at his eyes again before turning them back to the paper.

"_I know I should start off with the 'I'm sorry' part, the 'here's the real truth' part, but I want to beg first. Please extend our deal. I might miss the month mark, but I have to do what you said, I have to work for this, too. You've been exactly what I always said - the best - but I've been hiding. I need to do better, and this is the only way I can."_

"_Now, the 'I'm sorry,' which really isn't enough. The only thing I can think to say to even make it remotely better is that while idiot me didn't have the right thing to say when I left you, I can say it definitely now: I don't want this to be over. I just let all the fear get the better of me and took it out on you. Again, not fair, and I need to do better."_

"_Finally, I want to fulfill what I can of our deal, maybe like a downpayment before you get the real thing whenever this blows over. I told you what Giriko said wasn't a lie, and that's the truth. I just started trying to find what we had at each one of those parties, but all of those men weren't you. The first time I didn't want to. The second time I didn't want to. By the third time, I guess I figured that wasn't a choice, so I just hoped that the next one would mean it, would want me. I hope that makes sense, even though I'm sure it doesn't. For the rest, I had to ask Liz to be my mouthpiece since I don't actually remember everything, and maybe I never will. She'll tell you whatever you want to know since she and Black Star have a clearer memory than I do."_

"_I know I'm about to do another thing that's not entirely fair, but I'm desperate. You promised me that you wouldn't leave unless I told you. I'm begging you to stay with me, please. I'll call you as soon as I can."_

His fingers were trembling at the edge of the paper. "Take me, let me see her, please, I'll wait with her at intake, I don't care, just, Liz, please-"

"Nope," Liz added a second arm to his shoulder. "The smartest thing she said tonight was that she couldn't see you. She'd fold. She'd want to stay out here with you and go the easy route. So, no, Soul. We're staying here. She's going and you'll just have to wait."

Soul dropped the letter to his lap, his hands coming back to fists. "Then tell me, Liz. Tell me what happened to her."

"Hey," Black Star balked. "What? It's not a good time, man. Not for you. You can't hear that and-"

"She told me it was OK to tell him about that night," Liz murmured as she locked eyes with Black Star, Soul suddenly forgotten in the middle.

Black Star's brow furrowed, an accusing finger dangling in front of Soul. "Which is bullshit because _she_ should tell him, and now he's just-"

"You know she doesn't remember," Liz snapped. "Only we do, and she promised."

"Let me get this goddamn sentence out, Elizabeth," he warned. "I get it, we're the eyewitnesses, but he's fucking fragile right now. _I_ don't even want to hear the goddamn story again."

"Can we stop talking about me like I'm not here?" Soul muttered.

"I'm protecting you," Black Star spat.

Soul swallowed hard, "And I was trying to protect Maka and look how that ended up."

"Fuck," Black Star muttered. "You have to promise me. If this sends you into some kind of fucking tailspin you have to be honest about it. And, I don't fucking know, you have to stay with Liz or me tonight."

"You can drop me off at my Mom's after," Soul outstretched a hand, fingers still trembling slightly.

"With Serena?" Black Star narrowed his eyes again before awkwardly taking the shake with his wrong hand, the right one refusing to budge from Soul's shoulders. "Fine. Serena. But I swear to fucking God-"

Soul was already turning his head from Black Star. "Tell the story, Liz."

Liz took a long sip of her tea, trying to focus on the warmth running into her belly rather than the chill starting to trickle up her back. "I met Maka at a party, one of the record parties your parents got me on the guestlist for. I remembered her face from class and as soon as the guy looking to bring her home told me to fuck off when I tried to talk to her, well, I almost castrated him right then and there. I took her to my place, sobered her up, and she stayed with me that night. Not that that changed the behavior since next time it was me and Black Star, not at a record party but one of the house parties right off campus but that time…"

While Liz couldn't imagine that it'd match the trauma of Black Star finding Soul, there was always going to be a deep pain in the memory of finding Maka like that, a wound for her friend that wouldn't heal. "I was trying to find her, you know? I'd seen her at the beginning of the party and I knew she wasn't… She wasn't taking care of herself. I had seen her already drunk when we got there and when she disappeared I was worried. I made Black Star look for her with me."

"Where was she?" The words felt like gravel against Soul's throat.

"Upstairs. I was checking all the rooms one by one, and of course, the last one I checked…" Liz stuttered out a breath, her eyes growing hot with tears. "He had her pressed into the bed, her face, and I thought for a second that she couldn't possibly be alive, be breathing." Liz blew the air between her lips. "You know, I think Black Star is the strongest out of all of us because when I saw that, I froze, but when he saw that, he cold-cocked the guy without a second's hesitation. He never hesitates, even with complete terror in front of him."

"Duh," Black Star croaked.

Soul couldn't find the humor in it, erupting from the couch, trying to find some comfort in moving, feeling the absolute pain of the mental picture. "Who was he?" He was pacing, hands gripping tightly into fists at his side.

"Some guy," Liz answered quickly. "No one we knew and I can promise you, Black Star didn't leave him with the same face he came in with." That memory of that blood was at least partially joyful, a well-deserved beating as payment for the horror he created. "When I picked her up, she barely opened her eyes, couldn't put a sentence together and just managed to avoid puking all over herself. Did a number on the carpet, but so did Black Star's beating."

"That fucker deserved that and more," Black Star hissed, stealing the words right from Soul's mind. "What he did to her, her clothes…"

"Her clothes?" Soul gulped for air.

Liz tried to hold back nausea, having to cover her mouth as it waved up her to her throat. "They were all ripped, torn. So Black Star lost his shirt and I ran out to the car and got my emergency gym shorts. After some arguing, she let me take her to the hospital but other than that… I think she tried to pretend it never happened."

He let out a low, guttural growl as he threw up his hands. "How could someone do that to her?" It was an anguished scream and he threw it at Liz. "How could they hurt her like that?"

"I don't know," Liz murmured back, raising her hands in an attempt to placate. "But I don't think he was the only one, Soul. Just probably the worst one."

"What?" Soul was almost shrieking.

"Yeah, I don't think so either," Black Star joined with little enthusiasm.

"Not that she's said anything," Liz sighed deeply. "But I have a feeling, except, again, she mostly tries to pretend that none of her life's happened."

He sucked at his teeth, tightly running his hands through his hair. He tried to replay what he had of her life in his head, finding the glaring gap from the piano bench until Liz's rescue. Again, that dangerous fantasy started to play, the idea that there was another timeline where the two of them had stayed together after meeting at the piano. She would have become happy, dangerously courageous, free-spirited with a strong will but now all of that was hidden, muddled by all the pain. He only let that dream exist for another moment before focusing back on Liz. "What happened after that?"

"Nothing," Liz half-heartedly shrugged. "She banned the idea of parties all on her own after that. Definitely encourage by the rest of us. For the next year, the closest she got to socializing was when we all hung out, Black Star, Tsubaki, her and I. Then you."

"Look," Black Star stood up, cutting Soul's pacing. "Don't hear this the wrong way, but when you came along it mixed all that shit up. The past year she'd done a fucking fantastic job of just pushing it under the rug, but having you made her look at it, made her see it was dragging her down. This shit that happened today was long overdue. She needs this just as much as you needed it last year, OK?"

"So it's my fault," he laughed bitterly.

Black Star's hand connected with the back of Soul's head, jutting his chin forward and flipping his hair. "It's not your _fault_, but it sure as hell is partially for you, dude. She wants to be better so you can make this work. So don't give up on her. Chill out and wait it out."

"Like I'd ever leave her," Soul sighed out painfully. "It's just, I-"

Instead of another hit, Black Star brought his hand back to fluff Soul's hair. "You already miss her, I know, you big powderpuff."

"Don't call me a fucking powderpuff," Soul grunted as he struck away Black Star's hand. His eyes trailed back to Liz, seeing her own shell shocked face, the weary smile over the edge of her teacup. He made a mental note then to remind Maka of the thing that was hitting him in the face right at that moment. It wasn't just them, not some isolated little romance, but it was all of them, a web caring for one another and it was the two of them that were doing a shit job at reciprocating. "Why don't we all go to Mom's? She'd be over the moon if both of you showed up."

"I am her favorite," Black Star cooed. "Guess I'll give Tsubaki the night off."

"Nah, have her come," Soul shrugged.

"It does save me the trip back to the apartment to pack overnight stuff," Black Star grinned before unpocketing his phone.

"And I deserve some fucking pampering," Liz grumbled. "I'll call out of work tomorrow."

Soul nodded before moving around the apartment to pack all the necessaries. It was all catching up with him, his limbs starting to feel drained, that emotional battery running out. Everything had been chaotic: holding that razor blade in his fingers again and feeling like his world was toppling in on itself. Even with that, he could feel at least a modicum of surety, some kind of focus coming to his mind, maybe even a smidge of hopefulness as he let his mind drift to the idea of a Maka without fear.


	20. In the Fall by Hwasa, Woogie

Chapter 20! How did this happen? Please enjoy more of our regular romantic drivel.

* * *

Serena had just about tucked the other children into bed. _Oh, don't call them children,_ she reminded herself, but the evening seemed so close to that. All four had seemed fragile, clutching to old pastimes like watching movies, binging on snacks, but unlike their high school years, the volume seemed oddly subdued, only momentary whispers interrupting instead of raucous laughs. She also couldn't stop herself from creating stories about Maka's absence, watching her son closely but seeing nothing more than his usual quiet thoughtfulness.

He was the last one awake and she found him standing in the living room, eyes scanning the garden. "Darling, your father said he'd be home soon if you're, well, if you need him." She hesitated, especially as he turned and stared at her, his breath fluttering from his lips like he meant to speak.

Soul took a few more breaths to edit himself before letting the words tremble from his lips, "Mom, can I talk to you?"

"Yes, of course." Serena tried not to bite too hard at the bait, instead moving slowly to the couch to sit down, eyes and ears wide.

"How did you…?" He held onto the words, resorting them in his head. "Mom, how do you make that powerless feeling go away?" Soul resisted the urge to roll his eyes at himself, all of his careful arrangement of words blown to pieces. "I mean, when I was sick, you couldn't do a fucking thing, I wouldn't let you, so how did you get over that?"

"Oh, darling, you don't," Serena shook her head.

"What?" Soul blinked at her.

"You'll always blame yourself. It's natural. You always want to 'save' the ones you love and when you can't, even if it's because they themselves are standing in the way, the natural thing to do is to think it was your own fault." Serena sighed as she leaned back on the couch. "The best you can do is try not to dwell on it, even though I know that sounds impossible. I still struggle with it myself."

"But," he started and stopped, his lips pressing together.

"Soul," Serena cooed out his name, impossible for him not to hear that saturation of love. "You may feel powerless, it's normal, allowed, expected. But what you can do, what I know you are so deeply capable of, is continue to love because that's the power that you have. Maybe you can't force someone into healing, but you can love them and give them the safety to _want_ to heal."

Soul's breath hitched in his throat, almost trapping the words. "Mom, do you love me?"

Serena sighed longingly, "Can I tell you a secret?"

"What?" He felt a strange stir of curiosity.

"Not exactly a secret, maybe a story," Serena's smile turned into a wisp of what it once was. "I suppose you could have figured it out on your own by now or heard it from your father's mother as she muttered it under her breath, but I was only nineteen when your brother was born, your father twenty-two."

"I never did the math," Soul answered breathlessly.

"And we certainly weren't married, which your father quickly fixed with an almost immediate elopement, much to your grandmother's chagrin." Serena broke for an amused laugh, still enjoying the huffing of her in-laws at a nobody singer marrying their precious only son, heir to the empire that was forever sullied by her wiles. "But when Wes was born, I was young, terrified. Regardless of the legal paperwork, I wasn't sure your father was ready to settle and I'd never exactly pictured myself as a mother."

"But I did well enough, your father grew into that role, and Wes thrived." Serena had to take a moment to recover from the idea, seeing her eldest in her mind's eye. "But you, Soul, you were the product of thought, planning, and I waited desperately every week for you. By the time you were born, I was _so _in love with you that I was sure I was going to burst. But that's when, well, I started to feel the guilt of it all." The words had turned to sawdust in her mouth and she had to pause, swallowing in an attempt to clear it.

"I saw it right away, my preference for you, the way I wasn't giving Wes his share. I tried to even it out, but I was never perfect with my balance, and I think I often tipped towards your brother. When he died," she had to clench her hands into the couch cushion as if that would steady her, "I did the worst imaginable. I neglected you because if I gave you all the love I had for you, I'd be forgetting your brother. It wasn't until you hurt yourself that I realized it. That your life, _you_ meant the most to me in the world."

Serena took in a shaking breath. "So I suppose I should take my own advice to you. I love you so much, darling, more than I think you could ever realize, and that's here for you when you need it."

Soul tried to swallow the urge to cry. "I need it, Mom."

"Then you have it, Soul." Serena patted the couch next to her and Soul only hesitated for one breath before moving to her, offering no resistance as he sat and let her envelop him in her arms. "Maybe you should stay with us this week. I'll force your father to take some time off. Not to do anything in particular, but just to be here. Would that bother you?"

"No," Soul murmured as he let his head rest on her shoulder. It was always the same lemony scent to her hair that transported him back to the time when kissing boo-boos was still acceptable. "I'll stay for a while."

"As long as you'd like." Serena risked it, running her hand over his hair and finding no argument, just another soft sigh from him.

Soul slowly pulled away but stole her hands, keeping them in his. "Maka's in the hospital."

"What?" Serena blinked at him. "What happened?"

He bit his lip, trying to control the trembling before he breathed out. "It's like me, Mom."

"Oh, darling, she tried to…?" Serena still couldn't bring herself to let that phrase off her tongue.

"No," Soul shook his head slowly. "Just… I guess she needed more help than I could give her."

Serena let out a long huff of air. "Well, it's like I said, then, I suppose. Just save up your love, and as soon as she's allowed visitors, you'll make sure she gets it."

* * *

Soul had disappeared under the tree an hour ago. Serena had slipped a tray of offerings under the bower about thirty minutes in but didn't intrude, not that Soul would have minded the company. He was mostly just laying on his back, staring at the canopy and trying to count each one of the petals so his mind didn't stick to playing that mental video of their first kiss over and over. Maybe that was why he was really under here, trying to feel close to that again, trying to bring back the ghost of her touch.

His phone started to buzz and he turned on his side, ready for another check-in from Black Star or Liz but finding an unknown number. He contemplated letting it go but slid up to accept. "Hello?"

"Mr. Evans?" An unfamiliar voice to match the number.

"Yeah."

"I have Maka Albarn on the line, do you accept?"

"Yes," he blurted quickly, pressing the phone tighter to his ear as if that would ease the connection.

"One moment."

There was a series of clicks before her voice, so sweet and clear, rang in his ear. "Hello?"

"Maka," he breathed out weakly.

"This is so weird, I'm sorry," she murmured. "And I only have fifteen minutes and I _hate_ talking on the phone and, ugh, this is so awkward."

He couldn't stop the dreamy smile, the short chuckle at her run-on. "I miss you."

Her sigh drifted through the phone like it was right next to his ear and he waited for the feeling of the breath. "That's all I wanted to hear. I miss you, too."

"Then give me your fifteen minutes and listen." Soul rolled onto his stomach and brought himself on his elbows, readying himself to deliver the speech he'd worked on since the first sleepless night.

On the other end of the line, Maka couldn't stop her stomach from shriveling. _This is it, it's the break-up speech, the 'it's not you, it's me' but you know it's because of you because he knows. He knows you're-_

"You're the most courageous person I know," splattered from his lips, the thoughts he'd been holding back the past couple of days finally winning the fight with his tongue.

Maka was sure that she must not know the meaning of the word, that somehow his dictionary must be completely different, turned on its head. "What?"

"If I went through that," he prodded at his own chest as if she could even see it. "I'd never let anyone touch me again. How you even managed to let me get close to you without punching me in the face a couple of times floors me."

"Oh," Maka found herself without words.

"The fact that you even stayed alone with me in the apartment, or that _you_ kissed _me_. Maka, there's no way in hell." Soul took a long breath, waiting to hear an interjection and finding none. "Not to mention, I know you were alone. Your mom and dad weren't there like mine were. You didn't get Black Star and Liz until last year and I've had them my entire life. I had _everything_ and I still couldn't keep shit together and you didn't even blink. You went to school, you worked, you got through every day. And when it overwhelmed you, you didn't do anything fucking stupid, just did what you had to do. That's fucking amazing."

Maka heaved trembling breath, trying to at least keep the evidence of her tears silent, away from him. "But I…"

His heart was thundering as if he was reliving their first time under the tree together. "You let me be with you when you've earned not trusting a single person in this world. So I'm fucking thankful you chose me. I want to keep our deal, I'm staying, and if you're thinking about apologizing to me, I don't want it. All I want is you to do what you have to do and then come back to me."

Maka laughed through the tears, "Maybe I can't apologize, but can I make it up to you?"

"No," Soul urged back. "It's going to be me making it up to you, making up for all of that shit you went through. I can't change it, and fuck do I wish I could have stopped it, but I know I can at least make what you have now _better_."

"You can make up for them," she hiccuped through a sob. "But I have some things I need to make up for, Soul. Please."

"OK," he murmured. "I know you will. I'm waiting for it. Just get better first."

She took another deep breath. "I have to go soon. The doctor said maybe two weeks, but… can you come and visit? It wouldn't have to be in the ward, there are these visiting rooms and-"

"I'm there," he didn't hold back the jumping joy in his voice. "I can be there tomorrow for lunch if that's OK."

"Tomorrow," she practically hummed out the word, letting it soak into her like the sunshine.

* * *

A nice woman in scrubs had sat him in a room decorated with inspirational posters, the asinine kind with cute animals and saccharine sayings, and overly stiff couches and chairs. He opted for what should have been an armchair but offered none of the comforts and started to arrange things around the wannabe coffee table. The woman returned. "Mr. Evans, I just need your ID and for you to sign before I bring her in."

"Sure." Soul stood up quickly, digging into his pocket for his wallet and retrieving her request. They traded, Soul offering the tiny square of plastic for her clipboard and pen. He signed and they swapped back, Soul jamming his hands in his pockets with his wallet.

"OK, just one minute," the woman chirped before exiting, leaving the door slightly ajar.

He looked back to his seat but nixed the idea, teetering from his toes to his heel as he counted the breaths until the door moved again. It was a different woman this time that stuck her head in, an amused smile gushing off her face. As she opened the door the rest of the way, she threw her head over her shoulder, "Now, you better behave, Maka. There are no chaperones it seems."

"Fifteen-second hugs only, I promise," Maka chimed back before finally appearing in the doorway, sucking all the air from Soul's mouth. Her fingers were instantly slipping past his sides, raking up the back of his t-shirt to press herself against his chest. "Start counting, Soul."

"One," he whispered hoarsely as he let his arms wrap around her shoulders.

"Be back later," the new woman said to no one in particular as she shut the door, leaving them in their own little world that the embrace had created.

"I don't have to keep counting, do I?" Soul wanted to laugh but he couldn't, air still feeling out of his reach now that Maka was in it.

"It's kind of a rule, but I guess there's no one to monitor, so…" She let her head fall against his shirt.

He gave into temptation, letting a hand glide into her hair which she had so graciously left down, giving him free rein to run his fingers through. "How do they know we're not going to do more than just hug? Or that I didn't bring a pound of cocaine in with me?"

"Cameras." Maka pointed to the upper right-hand corner of the room. "And they'll search me before I go back on the unit."

"You think they're watching those cameras and counting right now?" Soul chuckled.

Maka snorted out a laugh in reply, "Yes, and we're probably about to get busted."

"Then I'm going to earn my punishment," he murmured before using that hand in her hair as an anchor to tilt her head, getting her lips close enough that he could just brush them with his.

"When did you get to be such a bad boy?" she sighed wistfully as she slowly let her arms fall away from him, trying to at least respect something in the ballpark of fifteen seconds. "I'm glad you're here."

"Then you're going to be overjoyed when you see what I brought." He moved out of the way of the table, bringing her attention to the spread. "One thing I do remember about the hospital was the food sucked."

"Oh," she cooed as she rushed over to the table, stealing his chair as she leaned over the containers. "Thai! I know it's only been a week but I've been barely surviving on peanut butter and jelly."

"Thought so," Soul laughed before plopping down in the chair next to hers. "Dig in."

"You're not going to eat?" She eyed him as she started opening each container, displaying all her options.

"Still a little nervous," Soul sighed. "Maybe in a bit."

Maka's fingers froze in the act of grabbing a plate. "Nervous?"

"Well," Soul rubbed his palms along his pant legs, "Institutions don't always bring back the fondest memories…" He held out a hand to her, waiting until she took it. "But I'm probably about to say something stupid, so I'm kind of overthinking right now."

"What's stupid?" She asked back breathlessly.

"My mom said you can't fix people, that that's not how it works, that people have to fix themselves but that all you can do is love somebody, give them that and hopefully that gets them to the point where they feel strong enough to do it themselves." Soul was biting back a wince at his own rambling, of course not doing any of Serena's words justice.

"That doesn't sound stupid," Maka murmured.

He blew a quick huff of air through his lips. "That's because I didn't say the '_I love you'_ part."

"You love me?" Again all the air was gone from her lungs and she was afraid that those words hadn't actually come out of either of their mouths.

"I mean, I know it's ridiculous," his eyes darting to the floor, trying to follow the script he'd given himself. "We're eight months into a friendship and only a month into a relationship and I'm a fucking wreck and you're trying to keep it together and-"

"But that's what you feel?" Maka tugged on his hand, bringing his eyes up from the floor. "Ignore the time, the situation, just for a second, Soul, and tell me if that's what you really feel."

"Yeah, Maka," he let out a trembling exhale. "And I know I'm not always at my best, but that's what I can always give you, no matter what. It doesn't matter what happens, since I think, and fuck this is the strangest part, but I think I've loved you since you sat next to me that night. Since the first time I heard you laugh."

As if he wasn't reliving it enough, a small laugh trickled from her throat, pulling him further back into the memory. "That's not stupid, Soul, that's…" She squeezed his hand. "Even after what Liz said, what-"

Soul narrowed his eyebrows. "Did you think that story was going to make me-"

"Hate me," Maka groaned out. "Or at the very least be disgusted-"

"No!" His hand reached and touched her cheek, easing her forward so he could brush his lips feather-light over hers. "I felt a lot of things, but not that. Not that at all."

Maka let her hands grasp into his shirt to pull him back into that kiss, to leave it lingering on her lips instead of letting it disappear. Since none of this felt tangible, all of it like some kind of strange dream that at any second she could wake from. "Don't leave me."

"Wasn't planning on it," he murmured back. "But… is it just me? Do you…?"

"I kissed you, did I?" she laughed again, pushing his heart over the edge into bursting. "And your mom was right. That's why I came here because I already kind of knew that I had your love and I wasn't healthy enough for it."

"Maka, it's not about earning it," Soul sighed.

"No, I know." Her fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt since all the other words today seemed so easy, but the explanation she had promised she'd give today was still stuck behind her tongue. "But when we fought I had a terrible thought that," she choked, having to clear her throat to free it, "That if you left me I'd kill myself. That if I went to Liz's and things magically didn't fix themselves, I'd do it."

"I wasn't going to leave you," he felt that prickling of defense again.

"That's not the point," she shook her head slowly. "That way of thinking isn't fair. I wanted your love, but it shouldn't be like that. It shouldn't be a threat: love me or else. It shouldn't be something I feel desperate for, it's something I want to enjoy."

"You think you can enjoy it a little right now?" He brought his hands down, slowly unraveling her fingers from his shirt so he could hold them.

"I think I'm at about fifty-fifty," Maka managed a grin.

"Good," Soul grinned before bringing his hand up to brush through her hair again. "You should eat, then, while I show you the other stuff I brought."

"Soul," she tried to sound admonishing but the excitement bubbled right after it. "You only had to bring you."

He shrugged in reply, finally detaching from her to stand and grab the bag he'd left at the other end of the table. "Liz has gotten into this thing where she's writing you letters every day, so I have those." He put the pile of envelopes on the table, careful to avoid the food that he was happy to see she was finally starting on. Maka only paused a second from shoveling noodles onto her plate to glance at the stack.

"That looks like more than once a day," she laughed.

"Well, once she started, Tsubaki joined in, and then, well, my mom kind of wrote you one, too." Soul offered this last bit tentatively, his eyes coming to hers to gauge the reaction.

"Serena?" Maka blinked at him and then back at the stack. "That's so sweet, but… why?"

Soul's mind drifted back to his mother and the week so far, the absolute shower of love from her at every turn. "Because I love you, you're hurting, and I think that's enough for her."

Maka wished she had a mouthful at that moment, the hot and spicy of the Thai welcome relief from that bitter taste of tears that kept kicking up at the back of her throat. Instead she had to swallow at it again, stilling a hand from food prep to press against her mouth to bite it back.

Soul was too intent on the next thing in the back to witness her struggle as he started to stack the books on the table. "I went to your job and asked, uh… Andre, right?" He looked at her and she nodded before he continued. "Andre what you'd want to read. He said some new stuff came out you'd be interested in so I brought it. Didn't think to ask if you could have books though, just assumed you could."

"I can," she murmured before pressing the hand to her mouth again momentarily before letting the feeling settle. _He loves you, all this is just love. It's not shameful, or hard to believe._ "What made you think of that?"

Soul snorted, "You without a book for two weeks?"

"True," she let a dry laugh escape her lips. "My dad brought a couple, but it'll be nice to have something fresh."

He paused from his work, easing the lean in his back. "Yeah, your dad brought you here, didn't he?"

"He did," Maka smiled softly. "He made some good, solid promises about being here more and he's, well, been here. My mom's _called_, but she's in France right now, so…"

That tasted sour in Soul's mouth but he swallowed it down. "Well, if you need anything, tell me. I'll bring it."

"Thank you," she cooed. Maka leaned back in the chair in an effort to look calm for her next statement, making sure to chew through a mouthful or two of food before casually throwing out, "He kind of wanted to meet you, my dad that is." That was an understatement since it wasn't a want but an insistence as soon as she had scrawled Soul's name on the approved visitor/call list.

Soul eased back into the seat next to her, his heartbeat ramping back up after the calm of spoiling her. "Once you're home, sure." He reached out, trying to bring back the serenity of the previous moment by playing with her hair, pressing golden locks behind her ears.

Maka leaned her head into his hand as she continued with another mouthful. She nervously pressed her fork around while she chewed, knowing he was watching her. "What have you been up to?"

"Uh," Soul let out a tight laugh, "I've just been staying at home with my mom and dad."

Maka planted her fork, a dainty little '_oh'_ forming on her lips. "_Home_ home?"

"Yeah." Soul let his fingers brush down her jaw. "Didn't exactly trust myself either, but it hasn't been half bad. Mom even talked Dad into _working_ from home."

"Is he actually working?" Maka raised an eyebrow.

"Absolutely not," Soul laughed. "OK, not fair, he takes phone calls, but other than that, nothing."

Maka snorted a laugh before shoveling in another mouthful. Now she was returning the favor, studying his face as he tried to maintain focus on smoothing his fingers along her skin. "Has… stuff gotten better with them?"

"We're working on it," Soul sighed through a fading smile. "Just another one of those weird things that was all in my head, you know?"

She was thoughtfully chewing again, her finger pressed to her chin. Once her mouth cleared enough she smiled at him, "I don't know, Soul, maybe you're a little courageous, too."

"Nope," Soul shook his head firmly.

"Hey, hear me out," she griped before pointing her fork at him. "You totally had the opportunity to backslide. Not to sound full of myself, but you love me," this did stop her with a smile, soaking up the idea of the words again, "So you could have fallen right off the wagon, had that _drink_, but you specifically put yourself in a situation where you'd have a harder time caving. Have people around you to help you maintain."

"Well, landing _myself_ in the hospital too would be stupid," he muttered.

"Says you, now, the Soul of almost a year post your last hospital stay. But what about the Soul from the day after the hospital? What would he have done?" Maka gave another thrust of her fork and Soul would swear he felt it, the sharp tines of her question jabbing at him.

'_Lucio Fulci would have been proud of the gore'_ didn't exactly seem appropriate to say so Soul sighed instead as he let his hand rest on her shoulder. "OK, point made. Point kind of taken."

"Point totally correct and should be more than _kind of_ taken," Maka muttered back with one last poke of her fork before using it again for its intended purpose.

Soul snorted a laugh as his finger twirled at a tendril of hair right off her shoulder.

After clearing most of her plate, Maka lowered it to her lap, dropping the fork before grasping at his hand. "Are you going to keep fussing with me or are you actually going to eat?"

"Fussing mostly," he murmured back as he leaned closer, allowing his other hand to break her grip so his fingers could go back to coiling her hair.

She feigned the annoyance for at least five more minutes until she gave in, eventually pulling him from the chairs to the couch, letting him play a much more PG-rated version of the practice. Maka had honestly envisioned this visit a million different ways, mostly all sour or somber and all of them signaling the slow and imminent decline of his love, something that she had barely allowed herself to imagine as a possibility in the first place. Instead, he had brought their little world into the room with him, the safe pieces of her life that she had only begun to build but he always solidified.


	21. Letters by Utada Hikaru

This is completely unnecessary filler since I decided to come up with and include the letters that Liz and Serena sent to Maka. You can totally skip this if you're looking for just pure continuation of the story. I'm just a sucker for useless development.

* * *

_Maka!_

_Being without you is incredibly weird, especially without you to balance out the boys. Black Star is obviously too much, and while Tsubaki does a great job of trying to temper him, he's a complete loss right now especially with his focus being Soul, Soul, Soul. Except, to be honest, I'm not sure our boy needs it. If he didn't tell you, which I really hope he did because it's kind of braggable, he's been staying with his parents and actually talking to them. No lie. And you should be able to guess that alone is HUGE._

_Speaking of Soul, you didn't tell Spirit? I stopped by just to check-in and all he would do was ask about who Soul was and how the hell he snuck into your life. It was super overprotective, but I tried to give the best Soul report I could without giving away your personal stuff. Which means I told him the best story which I realized I never actually told you, so here goes:_

_I know you got a taste of what Black Star and I call "Guard Dog Soul" when he threw a couple of punches, but let me tell you about the first time I met that side of him. I started in his class for elementary when we had to finally move in with our aunt and uncle. We'd been living on the streets for a while, so the nicest way I can put it is that Patty and I were a little feral. That being said, playground politics always dictates that the new kids get their proper hazing but when you're a little weird that behavior never ends and by the first month it was wearing us down._

_Patty had learned not to cry, but by the first month, she couldn't keep it together anymore. The first time tears dripped down her cheeks I freaked, but my words meant nothing to the schoolyard bullies. Now, Soul had never been a part of that. His usual position during recess was sitting in the tire swing, his chin resting on the hard black rubber while Black Star zoomed around him endlessly. I never asked him why, but once we hit that one month mark, it was like the quota had been reached because he was suddenly nowhere near his tire and instead was meandering around maybe two or three feet away from us._

_As soon as the assholes walked up it wasn't two or three feet but right in front of me, blocking their view of us completely. Black Star was already crouching next to Patty, talking stupid stuff just to make her smile but my mind was all on Soul, this itty bitty kid. It wasn't like he was some giant elementary student and if anything he was halfway to runty. But as soon as the first kid opened their mouth, Soul threw the first punch. I remember being floored because at that age, who the hell punches someone else?_

_He did get in trouble - suspended for like a week and I'm pretty sure the only reason he came back to school was his parent's money - but it didn't matter to him. When he came back it was like we'd been friends for our entire lives and Patty and I settled next to the tire swing. Within a week, Serena had us over, paid for my aunt and uncle's custody lawyer, helped send me and Patty to a therapist, and just all around adopted us without question, all because of "Guard Dog Soul."_

_Now, I swear to God he better have done what he said he was going to do because if not I'm totally ruining it, but that's what you have to look forward to when Soul loves you. Just be ready for it because he totally does and if that idiot didn't tell you I'm going to wring his neck. He is the most devoted person I know and he will fight for you until he dies. Honestly, I always thought that was what really got him about his brother's death because as far as I know, that was the first time he gave into any kind of selfishness and now he can't let it go. Maybe the more opportunities we give him to go back to that, the more he'll move towards forgiving himself. But who knows._

_Anyway, miss you so much! Please get better soon. We still have so much of the summer to enjoy._

_All my love,_

_Liz_

* * *

_Dear Maka,_

_I hesitate to write this letter, mostly because I'm sure my son will be mortified at me adding to the pile without being able to know the contents and more so because I lack the intimacy with you that Liz or Tsubaki can claim. I hope neither of those leaves you too embarrassed to give me the opportunity to write to you while you're taking care of yourself._

_Soul has only told me a few things about you, that you're an avid reader, that you've somehow, magically trained him in some form of cooking, and I'm sure he will let a few odds and ends trickle down in the coming months. I hope that, in time, you and I could actually get to know one another. I admit that part of it is because I am a nosey mother - I will admit to that fault - but it's also because I am convinced that there has to be something special about you. As I saw with my son when he was hospitalized, I'm sure there's nothing in your head right now that would incline you to think that you are special, but please, accept my logic on this._

_I hate to once again default to Soul, but since he is the only thing in this equation that I am actually well-versed in, I must use him. Through no fault of his own, or at least I refuse to place blame on him for this, Soul had become very closed off since his brother's death. I've had various doctors tell me myriads of different reasons for this, but I always thought it was the fact that he was now no longer sure he could love other people, that his want for his brother's love had driven him to his death and thus the way Soul loved must be flawed._

_Miraculously, he hasn't hesitated with you. When he brought you to the office, while I believe the two of you were still just friends, he had the opportunity to let you go. You were going to be angry at him for lying but he dismissed the chance to easily let you walk out, something my very hurt son had been liable to do for the past few years. There's something about you that has breathed a kind of new life into him, and for that, I have to be convinced that you are special._

_I'll admit that I am still worried. Heartbreak doesn't suit Soul, and I am keenly aware of your age and your similar struggles. All the textbooks would say that perhaps what you have is more of a recipe for disaster than an eternity of bliss but I am going to try to trust that this thing about you negates all of that. I, instead, will hope that you will continue to support him while he loves you. In the meantime, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask._

_Take care,_

_Serena_

_P.s. As is very typical of him, Scott has insisted I sign his name to this as well even though he has done none of the work of writing._


	22. For Sure by Xydo, Cold Bay

Special thanks to **DarkHazen** for reminding me that I mentioned Tsubaki's letter at well. There's nothing I hate more than continuity errors, so here it is along with a little Black Star love and some more parental advice. Enjoy the short update, I promise there's more to come.

* * *

_Hello, Maka!_

_Let me start off with the fact that I am __so_ _proud of you! When Liz told me that you'd made the decision to check yourself in, I was honestly worried at first but then relieved. You need this, especially since all I feel like I've watched you do is be strong for the sake of being strong. Does that make any sense? I hope so._

_Black Star says 'hi' and I'm sure you can guess his reaction when I suggested he write you a letter. I think he said something like 'my godly personality can't be understood in words' or something like that. I love him, but I swear that sometimes my brain just shuts off when he starts heading into a 'worship me' speech. I will say that I think he does miss you around, at the very least misses you taking Soul's time._

_I would complain since every girlfriend usually appreciates alone time with her boyfriend, but I had to learn right from the beginning that those two came as a package. I had started off thinking that it was a pretty unfair deal since Soul took a mountain of work and effort from Black Star and in return he maybe got a few texts, a video game date here and there. You know I don't necessarily fight with him, but I did gently question it once when we reached the six-month mark. He could only say that this was just exactly how it was and I shouldn't bother to wonder about it._

_It wasn't until much later, around the time that you and Soul met, that he actually told me he'd been the one who found Soul after his attempt. Before that, I was able to say that I'd never seen Black Star shaken, but retelling that story ruined that record. You could see it so easily on his face, anger, confusion, and most of all, guilt like he'd been the one to push Soul to it. That was when I really stopped questioning it since if that's how deep it hurt him, then there had to be a relationship there that was too big to question._

_It feels selfish to say this, but thank you for not putting us through that. I know that it was on your mind, and I don't blame you one bit especially since I'm sure I only know a small section of what you've been through. You are just so important to all of us that the pain of watching you hurt was almost too much to bear to begin with. I can't wait for you to come back, strong because you feel strong and not because you have to be._

_Much love,_

_Tsubaki_

* * *

Maka twirled the phone cord around her finger like it was a 90s movie. "Thank you for the letter," it was hard to fake happiness here, the one section ringing in her mind.

"No, it was awful," Tsubaki groaned. "I felt like I just filled it with dark things while you're supposed to be working on being happy."

"No, Tsubaki, it was nice, especially the end, but…" Maka paused, turning another coil around her finger. "You said Black Star found Soul?"

Tsubaki's voice didn't sound but Maka could hear the shuffle of her feet, the movement and closing of a door. "I did, but if he didn't tell you, Maka, then I don't know if _I _should."

"Then don't," Maka murmured. She wasn't even entirely sure why she had wanted to know in the first place. _Blame it on wanting to put your mind somewhere other than your treatment_, Maka mimicked her therapist in her head. "Just tell me if Black Star's doing OK."

"He's fine," Tsubaki sighed. "Almost every day thick as thieves with his _best bro_. I swear, they should be conjoined."

Maka laughed before wagging her wrapped finger. "Don't let them do that. Soul's lonely, but he's a big boy. Black Star needs to divide the attention fairly."

"Really, I don't mind," Tsubaki started but Maka huffed off the end of her sentence.

"Put Black Star on the phone. He's there, isn't he? It's too early for either of them," Maka let out the last part as a grumble, thinking about the joys of sleeping in. Here, there was a schedule, meetings during the day to be followed, food (or what they had the audacity to call food) at certain times.

"One second," Tsubaki chimed.

The door opened again, footsteps, and the clunk of phone-hitting-face. "What the fuck?"

"Black Star?"

"Oh, Maka, hey," he sounded groggy for once, his exuberant tone half-withered in the pillow. "How's the looney bin?"

"Black Star!" Tsubaki's scold rang out in the background.

"Fine, thanks for asking," Maka couldn't help but laugh at it, feeling a bit looney herself. "Listen to me, though, dummy."

"Dummy?" Black Star squawked, suddenly a lot more awake.

"Soul is fine," Maka enunciated each word with an exuberant force. "Your girlfriend needs at least fifty percent of your time."

"Tsubaki-" Black Star's voice was drifting away from the phone.

"Hey!" Maka tried to call his attention back. "She didn't ask me to, I'm saying it. Just because I'm not there doesn't mean you have a gap to fill."

A huff of air blew next to the phone. "When are you coming home, anyway? That idiot misses you."

"Which idiot?" Maka cooed sweetly.

"All of them, honestly, but him especially. Not old school mopey, but the amount of times he sighs in a fucking day is getting annoying." Black Star added his own sigh for example. "So when?"

"Next week. Papa picks me up on Tuesday."

"Five fucking days," Black Star groaned. "Maybe when you come back, then, or-"

"You're taking her out to dinner tonight," Maka corrected. "And Soul will be fine."

"So says you," he barked back.

"Sorry," Maka sighed back quickly. "I know… I know it must be scary, to worry about him like that, but he's at his mom's right?"

"Yeah," Black Star grumbled. "He said for sure he was there until you came out."

"Then trust him that he'll be good there tonight." Maka uncoiled the phone line from her fingers. "You can't always put your life on hold for us, you know?"

Black Star laughed softly, "Is this the lame part where I argue that's what friends are for?"

Maka smiled but didn't laugh, a sudden pang at the next thought. "Yeah, but I want you to worry about what boyfriends are for tonight." _Because I really wish I had mine. Even if it's just to lay in bed together._

"I guess I'll show her a good time." She could practically hear Black Star's cheesy grin through the phone followed by a scuffle of motion on the other end, a squeal from Tsubaki. "Gotta go, Maka." Without any more ceremony than that, Black Star hung up the phone. He was too busy now pinning Tsubaki to the bed, having dragged her into the covers just after his 'good time' line. "What was that about?"

"Maka wanted to talk to you," Tsubaki's voice was innocent because she was. She was completely incapable of pressing back against him in any type of matter, something that Black Star enjoyed but knew that there was a thin boundary before it hit abuse.

That winning grin faltered, his hands easing on her wrists. "Are you lonely?"

"Black Star…"

"Just answer it." He was able to shoot out the words but he was worried that was it. This was the only time he ever really felt fear when they were tangled together when it wasn't some fight or saving the day.

"Sometimes," she murmured back but she raised her head from the bed, getting close enough that she could brush her lips against his. "But I've understood for a long time that I have to share you."

Black Star sucked at his teeth as he watched those indigo eyes move tenderly over his face. "Don't ever repeat this."

Tsubaki nodded, trying to turn her smile to solemn.

"Maybe Maka's right," he muttered as Tsubaki no longer had any control over her smile. "Maybe… I definitely owe you more time."

* * *

While Scott would love to claim some kind of grand ability at chess, the best he could do was checkers with Soul and he was sure that somewhere in the afterlife (_hopefully hell,_ he thought absently), his grandmother was beside herself with rage at the use of her ornately carved knights and queens. "Your mother wants all the information on your visit," he added as he twirled a rook into the next space.

Soul always appreciated this about his father: while Serena set bait and traps, Scott always placed his intent on a platter, take it or leave it. "Not much to tell. You know what it's like visiting at one of those places." _You said you loved her, though, isn't that big? But does dad even want to know anything like that?_ Serena had hinted at it, Soul even though maybe wistfully, that he was 'saving his love' for seeing Maka.

"She like the food?" Scott had a knack for asking questions without even a hint of sounding interested.

"Yeah, especially since she'd been living on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." Both of them exchanged a short laugh as Soul moved a pawn. "I wanted to go again, but she said not to bother, that she'd be home next week."

"Already?" This took all of Scott's effort not to sound surprised. He had been the one to push for Soul to stay a whole year, especially after finding out from Black Star exactly what he'd found in that closet, so two weeks seemed absurd. He wondered if it was the insurance since they'd ended up paying an absurd amount of money out of pocket, and if this was one of those times that Serena would be telling him to get the checkbook, foot another bill to save one of Soul's friends.

"I guess since she didn't actually _try_," Soul sighed, having nowhere near the mental strength to finish that sentence. "She has to do some full-day outpatient program until school starts though."

"And you're going back to the apartment." His mind didn't agree with it but his heart let out a sigh, his eyes coming from the pawn in his fingertips to his son's piercing red eyes.

Soul nodded slowly, not knowing what else to offer, especially as his father's hand came to his mouth, holding back words as he tapped the piece against the board. This difference in Scott made his skin crawl and Soul couldn't stop the abrupt words from his own mouth, "What is it, Dad?"

Scott let the hand fall like a mask from his mouth, leaving a strange smile behind. "We loved having you here," he squashed a secondary sigh before continuing, "and I felt like you were safe." _Like I could keep you safe._ His throat clenched and he was forced to clear it before he could continue. "But you're grown and if you invite Maka over here you know your mother is going to butt-in."

Those words hummed in Soul's head, his eyes unable to focus off his father's face in what he felt was an increasingly awkward stare. Regardless of that, Scott held it, that forlorn smile sticking to his lips no matter the length of silence supplied by Soul. "I can… I'll visit more often, Dad. More than just the mandated Friday."

"That'd be nice," Scott let his eyes drop, focused back at the next play as he glided a piece across the board. "Bring Maka every once and in a while, placate your mother."

"Sure." Comfort came to Soul as he saw the amusement come back to Scott's smile.

"How's having a girlfriend? I assume you're rusty." That came with a chuckle as Scott settled back into himself, momentarily brushing the thought of his younger son's almost death away from him.

"Hey," Soul groaned out.

"Who was the last one?" Scott leaned back in his chair, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Kim, right?"

Soul sighed, "She and I weren't even really a thing, Dad. I've always tried to keep it… casual." That word didn't exactly agree with him, leaving a sour twist to his lips. _I've always tried to keep people away._

"But it's not casual with Maka?" Scott raised a playful eyebrow since, as always, he wasn't a stranger to anything his wife already knew, but it was fun to tear it agonizingly from his son's lips.

"No, I, uh… I love her, Dad." Soul tried to shrug off but as Scott exhaled a long whistle he felt his face start to burn. "You're ridiculous."

"Like father like son," Scott shot back. "But don't be embarrassed about loving her, especially since your mother already warned me."

Soul let out an exasperated huff as he leaned against his elbow as he rested his chin on his hand. "You _two _are ridiculous."

"Sure," Scott nodded. "I told you your mother wanted all the details. I was supposed to get Maka's reaction to your brave confession."

"We're still together. Is that hint enough?" Soul's grumble was muted as he tilted his mouth closer to his hand.

"And that's the smart-ass comment I will serve to her," he chuckled as he eyed the queen he now clutched in his fingers. "Glad it worked out."

"Me, too," Soul let half a smile curl over his hand. This game was going nowhere, Scott moving each piece nonsensically as Soul attempted at least some logical moves.

"Do I have to give you _the talk_?" Scott leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with delight.

"No," Soul choked.

"You sure?" Scott's grin was breaking past Cheshire cat levels. "You know I was a little younger than you are now when I met your mother and-"

Soul grimaced but the words came clean off his lips, "And then you had Wes."

Scott blinked a little in surprise. "Yeah, you could say your mother and I moved fast. Guess you did the math, huh?"

"Mom talked about it," Soul murmured.

"Did she? Huh." Scott mirrored his son, leaning on his elbow and resting his chin on his hand before letting out another wonder-filled breath of air. "That was a really _difficult_ time. I wasn't exactly the most mature so there was a lot of growing up and…" Scott let that line of thought die especially as it allowed his mind to drift back to the beginning, the first time he held a baby, his first son in his arms. Thoughts of life usually always lead to thoughts of death and Scott had to stop it before it got there. "Your mother always considered it our trial by fire and she romantically claims it's what makes us so strong as a couple. Every couple should have one, but I guess you and Maka are having yours, aren't you?"

"Sorta," Soul offered lamely, his own mind trailing off. The whole relationship so far had been a trial, hadn't it? There'd been happiness, sure, some lengths of normalcy, but for the most part, it was one hurdle after another and the hospital only felt like the midpoint. Their deal wasn't done after all.


	23. Sunday by Heize, Jay Park

We're getting close, I think. Enjoy this cutesy chapter.

* * *

Soul wasn't sure it was physically possible but his palms were even sweatier than their first-date-but-not-first-date night to the point where he was sure they had to literally be dripping. He had opted for a black t-shirt to hide any additional sweat, but the summer weather had only added more than the nervousness had produced and by the time he walked to Maka's apartment building he was sure he looked like a drowned rat. Luckily he had been prepared for his body's ultimate betrayal and brought an extra shirt which he'd left sticking out of his pocket in hopes of it remaining untarnished.

"Hello, Soul!" It was the same security guard as before, eyes seemingly just as delighted as the last time that they met. "Or, really, I'm sorry, Ms. Albarn never gave me your last name."

"Evans, but you can call me Soul." He tried to stop his hands from running through his hair since all that would do would spread more sweat. "Is there a bathroom I could use before I could go up there?"

"Huh," the guard looked him up and down and the phrase once again occurred to Soul: _drowned-rat_. "Why don't you come around back and use the one in the office?"

"That would be great," Soul tried to check his exuberance at the prospect, just giving a quick nod. That was another thing about today, cool-guy-Soul was supposed to be back in town. Being with her meant he could be whoever he was at the moment, but meeting Spirit Albarn definitely meant Soul had to channel his old self, the one that had it together and never flinched in social situations, or at least not on the outside.

The doorman opened the door behind him and waved Soul through, giving Soul the first view of a cramped office that consisted of nothing more than a small wooden desk and chair. Opposite those was another door. "Right in there," the doorman motioned.

"Thanks," Soul started a few steps forward before turning back. "What's your name?"

"Oh, Mauricio Clark. Nice to see you again, Mr. Evans. Soul," he corrected himself quickly.

"Thanks again, Mauricio." Soul nodded back before entering the bathroom that was more of a broom closet. He locked the door, taking off his shirt to rub off any and all of the excess sweat he could. Unfortunately, he still caught himself in the mirror, seeing the tick marks littering his chest. Instead of the usual replay of blade against skin, Soul forced himself to remember how her hands felt tracing the lines, her voice whispering '_different'_ instead of '_disgusting'_ and how that night had ended with another step closer. Maybe that last part had been a little too much since he could feel the heat coming back to him.

He ran the cold water and splashed it over his face, happy he opted for the headband today since it at least left his hair mostly presentable. Soul took the other shirt as it dangled from his pocket and threw it on, relishing the pleasant feeling of fabric that wasn't clammy and stuck to his skin. It was wasteful, but he tossed the old t-shirt into the trash, not wanting to carry around the badge of his nervousness and unlocked the door to let himself back into the office. As a final measure, he stood in front of the small fan on the desk, enjoying a few of the oscillations before exiting the office.

"Feel better?" Mauricio grinned after another once-over.

"Meeting her dad today," Soul shrugged before offering back a little of a smile. "Any advice?"

Mauricio whistled long and low before laughing, "Mr. Albarn, huh? Don't get him started talking about women. Not only will the conversation never end but Ms. Albarn will hate it."

Soul grimaced, that bitterness hitting the back of his throat as the memory of the first night at his place washed over his mind.

"You don't look like the kind to talk women anyway," Mauricio winked at him, barely abating the wash of Soul's bad mood.

"I'm a one girl kind of guy," Soul managed a smirk. "Speaking of, I gotta go see her. Nice talking to you, Mauricio."

"Good luck!" Mauricio called after him as Soul moved towards the elevators.

The ding, the slow climb, and the eventual opening of the doors took all of Soul's patience but luckily didn't wash him in another layer of bodily grime as the AC had been pumped up to near refrigerator temperatures. He had barely stepped to the threshold of 508, his hand getting through one knock on the door before he heard the practical stampede of footsteps on the other side, the door instantly flying open under his hand.

There probably still should have been some of that fear, the residual nervousness, but as soon as he saw her beaming face and her arms shooting up to wrap around his neck, all of it fell to the background. "Soul!" Maka was practically bouncing, arms relaxing around his shoulders so she could lean forward, capturing his lips before he even had the chance to get her name from his throat. _As if that matters_. The important thing was that warmth, the softness of her lips that he had gotten used to getting every day before it was stolen.

Soul was saving his contented sigh for when they parted but wasn't waiting for it, enjoying the way she lingered in the kiss. That was, until the throat cleared behind them and Soul slowly opened his hazy eyes to see the second body that had appeared in the hallway. They parted with a quick puckering snap of mid-kiss separation, giving Soul a better view of the man that he already knew to be Spirit Albarn. The look on his face was oddly familiar, that same scowl he'd adopted after ripping Maka from Soul at the piano bench.

Maka huffed before pulling Soul another step into the doorway. "Papa, this is Soul Evans."

"Spirit Albarn." He held out a hand without a smile, his eyes still stuck in the moment he interrupted.

"Nice to see you again," Soul offered his hand back, getting a half-assed shake after the connection.

"We've met?" Spirit offered a glance at Maka.

"Yeah, at a Maba Sound record party." At least an ounce of cool-Soul was there, letting an easy chuckle fall from his mouth, "I was fifteen and you were yelling at me to stay away from your daughter."

"Guess that advice didn't stick." Here should have been an opportunity for one of those good sitcom laughs and while Soul was ready to give into it, Spirit's face stayed flat, leaving Soul only to breathe out a weak laugh in reply.

"Let's go sit down," Maka sighed as she let go of Soul to press her father back down the hallway. She led them into the living room, forcing Spirit into the single chair to sabotage any separation from Soul.

"How did you two meet?" Spirit even surprised himself with the attempt at small talk, but the look on his daughter's face already told him he had to tread lightly.

"She goes to college with some of my friends," Soul offered easily, not trying to give in to his anxiety that was screaming about traps at every turn. At this point, he'd sat down on the couch and Maka was next to him, taking his hand and playing with it in her lap.

Spirit raised an eyebrow as he leaned forward, starting to ease into the interrogation questions he'd brewed up as soon as Maka came home. "But you're not going to school?"

"Papa," Maka started the scold but Soul stopped it with a squeeze of their combined hands.

"Last year I was, well, in the hospital for a while so school wasn't an option." Soul tried to shrug it off but that brought a blockage to his throat, forcing him to clear it sharply. "I enrolled for this year."

That derailed Spirit slightly, not having pre-arranged a snappy comeback about the kid being that sick. He'd originally assumed laziness, or worse, an eye on his parents' money as his only future. "Nothing too serious, I hope," he offered lamely. _Of course, it was serious, a year in the hospital isn't for nothing. But the kid doesn't _look _sick, maybe a little lanky but not ill._

A lie easily formed on his tongue, _That's all over. I'm good. Great._ He swallowed that down, sure that he didn't want to risk giving Spirit untruths. "I'm good for now."

"OK…" It was obvious that wasn't the exact answer Spirit wanted, his mouth pressing into a thin line as he digested the implications.

It was Maka who squeezed his hand this time before starting a slow rub of her thumb across his knuckles. "Papa, you have two more questions and that's it."

"It's not like I'm interrogating him," Spirit tried to throw up his hands in innocence but the almost permanent frown made the movement moot.

"Two," Maka echoed again, her green eyes hard set on her father.

Soul was watching her closely, praying that he never got that kind of stare, not sure he could do anything but crumble under the weight of it. Maybe she wasn't a full-on guard dog, but Soul was seeing a repeat of that night at the party, the flared anger in response to someone threatening him, no matter how insignificant it might seem to him. _Fuck, do I ever want to kiss her right now._

Spirit was watching Soul as his puppy-love eyes were lamely taking in all of his daughter. "So how long have you two been together, under my nose, without my daughter telling me about it?"

Soul could practically hear Maka's eyes roll and as he watched her heave over her father's dramatics he was able to sneak out a chuckle. "We have been friends for a while, since September, but it got serious a few weeks before Maka went to the hospital."

_Got serious_, Maka snorted in her head. She made a mental note to tease him about that later.

"Then I'm not too far off thinking that this maybe isn't the healthiest thing for her." Spirit was throwing the line to the side, watching as the color flared at his daughter's neck.

"I told you, I didn't go into the hospital because of him," Maka spat. "And he's been taking care of me more than-" She cut herself off since slinging arrows at Spirit wouldn't fix this, wouldn't get them out of this situation intact. "One, just one more question, and not on that topic."

But Spirit couldn't help himself, stop himself from wanting that fight. "Anyone ever tell you you're a spitting image of your brother?"

"_Papa_," Maka hissed.

For a second there was no air in the room and Soul could only gape in an attempt to pull some in. _Come on, people are going to talk about him, ask about him, and you can do it._ He tried to focus on Maka's hand, finding himself bringing it closer to him so that he could wrap his other around it as well, hanging onto her with all of him. "Yeah, we were twins ten years apart. Still hoping the looks mean I'll be at least half the guy he was."

"You are," Maka murmured. "But more than that, too." Regardless of her father's glare, she planted a soft kiss on Soul's cheek. He was slow to turn his head to her, giving a short nod and a minute smile. "And that's it, Papa. We're out of here."

"I thought I told you-" Spirit started but Maka was already out of her seat, leaving Soul's touch to take the few steps to tower over him in the chair.

"I'm leaving the house," Maka tried to keep her voice even, the broiling anger at bay. "But I agreed to your stupid curfew, remember? 8 PM, I'll be home, without Soul."

"8 PM," Spirit muttered back. "And don't try to sneak him back in here!"

_Are we in high school?_ Soul felt a laugh bubbling in his throat at the exchange but smothered it with a hand over his mouth. He came up beside her, extending his hand to Spirit. "Look forward to seeing you again, Mr. Albarn."

"Spirit," he grumbled before taking the hand, his eyes looking over at his daughter. "8 PM."

"Yes," Maka groaned before walking through their hands, purposefully splitting them as she grasped Soul's wrist to drag him along. There wasn't any resistance and Soul waited for the space of the corridor before he threw an arm around her shoulder. Maka was silent until they got to the elevator, waiting for the doors shut them in before she crumbled. "I'm sorry! He was terrible! Of course, he'd get to you being sick and _your brother_!" She ended with a frustrated cry.

"Not the worst, Maka." He squeezed her shoulder before planting a kiss on her temple. "Just glad I can have you until _8 PM_." Soul attempted to make serious eyebrows but as she turned her glare to him he erupted into a laugh. "How long is the curfew going to last?"

"Until he gets a new girlfriend," Maka muttered. "So maybe two or three days."

The elevator doors opened and Maka instantly put on a smile, waving softly at Mauricio. "Nice to see you, Mr. Clark!"

Mauricio offered the same wave back, "Take care, Ms. Albarn, Soul."

Maka leaned into Soul, whispering softly, "Sorry, I never actually told him your full name."

"Don't sweat it, told him to call me Soul anyway," he shrugged it off with a grin. "I'm going to be coming by more often, right? First name basis with your doorman is a good start." Soul winced a little as they hit the sunshine, once again feeling the oppressive heat that had ruined one of his shirts today. He let his hand drift from her shoulder to her fingers as he tried to limit the overheating.

"You live alone, Soul. Why would we ever come here when all we'll get is Spirit breathing down our necks?" Maka sighed out at the mental picture of Spirit's hawkish hovering to disrupt every moment.

"Because he's got to get used to it," Soul squeezed her hand. "He may not like it, but I'm here to stay."

"Good luck wearing him down." Maka couldn't sigh again, especially as those words stole all of the annoyance from her thoughts. _Here to stay, still promising that after everything._

"So what do we do with our four hours?"

"Pizza, park, crepes!" Maka made it chant, swinging his hand in the process.

"That's a little food heavy," he laughed.

"Well, maybe _one _slice of pizza and the walk at the park will make room for the crepes. But you have to get your own crepe, Soul! I will _not_ share today." She gave him the best menacing glare that she could manage before melting it away with her laughter.

Maka at least stayed true to her one slice but refused to stay in the store, forcing him back out onto the benches outside to bake in the heat. She never realized how much she needed the fresh air or what could loosely be considered outdoors since it was rationed away from her at the facility. Sure, there were times for walks, a patio that you could relax in at certain hours, but again, all of it was mandated. She missed just popping out onto the street whenever she pleased and she planned to take full advantage of it today.

As they got to the park she did what she always did, leaning at the fence to peruse the activity, trying to determine the areas for the best annoyance-free walking. Soul brought back a happy memory, his hands slowly moving from arms to her waist to hug her from behind. He only lingered in it for a second, enough to let his cheek press against hers, before he had to give in to the summer's denial of skin-to-skin contact. Maka grabbed the hand that had just barely slipped away from her and began to guide him through the park, making dedicated turns to get to the walkways that included shade from the overhang of trees.

They'd enjoyed the quiet along the way, but Soul couldn't stop himself from asking the question that he'd always dreaded to hear. "How are you feeling? And I know I don't have to ask you to not give me some bullshit answer."

"Bullshit answer is _fine_!" Maka attempted as much fake enthusiasm as she could. "But maybe I'm halfway there? This is the first time in my life I've actually stopped pretending that the past couple of years didn't happen. Coming to grips with what did is weird, and so…" She let the sentence trail off as she pulled him from the pebbled path, bringing him out onto a lawn dotted with trees. After getting far enough away from any of the other meandering couples, Maka pulled him down to the grass that was safely shaded by a drooping willow. "I want to close out my end of the deal."

Soul moved a little closer so he could get both of her hands in his. "We could go back to the apartment if you want to talk."

"No," Maka shook her head slowly. "If we go back to my apartment, Spirit will just snoop and if we go back to your apartment, well, there are other things I'd be too preoccupied with." She laughed at herself as the blush hit her cheeks. "So this is probably the best spot available."

Soul had only prepared himself to be gentle and loving with her today, her first day back out in the real world, and he felt a pang of sudden guilt churning in his gut. "You don't have to do it today, Maka. Don't feel like you have to-"

"I want to," Maka cut him off with a faltering smile. "I'm trying not to run from it anymore, OK? I guess, well, I know Liz told you about the… the rape." The word felt so strange resounding in her ears and she barely knew how to form it in her mouth, never having used it to describe that moment. All it had been to her was another of her mistakes, only herself to blame. Rape meant that it was someone else's fault.

"Yeah," Soul could barely produce the sound as his teeth started to clench.

"But that wasn't the first time." She could see his mouth trying to form rage-drenched words but she shook her head, muting him instantly. "I don't know what to blame it on, my parents splitting up and both getting pretty good at ignoring me, or the fact that I created some fantasy in my head that I missed the last opportunity for true love with the boy on the piano bench, but I started going to those parties with Spirit with the intent of finding someone who would give me the attention, the adoration I wanted."

"Of course, Spirit was still overprotective and I'd spend most of the parties exchanging glances, maybe a whisper here and there when he wasn't looking. Spirit would send me home but all I'd have to do was sneak back out and go to whatever afterparty he wasn't going to." Maka let out a slow, warbling breath. "It was easy to get a drink at those private afterparties, to flirt, to have what I thought was fun. It was fun, maybe, until I realized that you have to make good on all the glances you've given the whole night."

"I was stupid, naive, and I thought maybe kissing would be enough but…" Maka shook her head, thinking about the child she was never allowed to be. "I wanted to say 'no' so many times, but there was no space for it because saying 'no' just put you in danger, one way or another. So I let it happen, over and over, and I learned to pretend to like it, to enjoy it. It wasn't until Liz broke the cycle that one night that I started to really think about it, about how much I hated it because I was so _relieved_ when she took me home."

Her eyes fell to their connected fingers, watching as his thumb rubbed slow circles in her skin. "I talked a lot to the doctor about how much danger I'd put myself in, how vulnerable I'd left myself at every turn, and I think I came to the realization that maybe I wanted all of that. Maybe I was hoping for it to kill me." She didn't want that to be the last word, nor did she want to see his eyes with that thought in his head. "But by the time we met I wasn't letting that happen anymore. I hadn't kissed or touched anyone since the night Liz found me. I thought I was being careful, but I was really just hiding it all away."

Maka finally let her eyes come to his, finding him squirming, impatiently waiting his turn through all the pain and turmoil. It was enough to make her smile, albeit weakly before she let the final bit of it out. "Honestly, I wanted so much to guard you against me, to keep you from getting dirty by what I'd done but I wanted you so badly, Soul, that I couldn't help myself. I know you said that it didn't bother you, but-"

Soul finally let the guttural, frustrated groan grumble up his throat. "I don't care," he urged over her words. Maka could only blink at him, her train of thought derailed. "Oh, fuck, I know that doesn't sound right, Maka, but I mean… all I want to know, the only thing that matters is does it feel like that when I touch you? Do you have to pretend to like it?"

"No," Maka whispered softly, the words slipping dumbfounded from her lips. "I told you, sometimes my body gets confused, but as soon as I think about it, think about you, know it's you…"

"That's what matters." He let go of one of her hands, freeing his fingers to touch her cheek. "The only reason I'd ever think about your past is because I'm trying not to repeat it. I want you safe, I want you alive, and I want you happy."

"Soul…" Maka leaned forward, pressing her cheek to his shoulder so she could hide in the crick of his neck.

"Just keep taking care of yourself, Maka, please," he hated the begging quality in his voice but let it be. It was definitely a painful dose of his own medicine, thinking about her not wanting to live, the idea that she could have died even before they got together. He knew this is where Black Star must have been, or his parents, all of them hoping the broken didn't outweigh all the good in life.

"And you're going to keep taking care of yourself, too, right?" Maka pulled back to get a good look at his face as she grasped the front of his t-shirt, giving him an unnecessary shake.

"Don't worry," he laughed softly. "You're stuck with me, OK?"

Maka pulled him forward without much effort and let his lips linger on hers, knowing that this time at least wouldn't be interrupted by her father. She savored it, allowing for the tension to release from her stomach as all thought of tears finally abated. "That's it. All the shameful-"

He hushed the word with his lips. "Don't."

"All the things that happened," she corrected herself.

He sighed across her lips as he tried to quell the thumping of his heart. "Which means you beat me in the deal, huh?" Soul was hoping that this could almost sound cool, joking, but with the way her hands instantly smoothed from his shirt to cup his face, he knew it fell completely short.

Instead of what he hoped for, another deep kiss, she pulled him away, eyes searching his. "It wasn't a contest, Soul. So don't think you have to go and rush to your part."

"Not rushing." Soul grabbed her hands from his face, clenching them tightly as he brought them down. "Just definitely wasn't going to make the first thing I said to you when you got home was '_I'm ready to take off my pants.'_"

Again, Maka hadn't imagined today would have been filled with laughter but he managed to elicit a tumble of giggles from her mouth. "I'm sure that would have gone over great with Spirit."

"I think that's Black Star's level of romantic," Soul smirked.

Maka leaned a little closer and raised her eyebrows playfully. "And he would say your's is to silently pine until I do the work."

Soul's mouth flung open, an incredulous huff escaping his throat. "That is totally not true."

"Says the man who missed every chance to kiss me," she cooed.

"I won't miss them now." Soul gave up on the teasing, leaning forward and catching her lips. "So no pining, Maka. I'm, uh," he laughed breathlessly, "I'm ready when you are."


	24. Jasmine by DPR LIVE

Welcome to the end of another one of my SoMa fics. If you find yourself wanting more, I have so many more to choose from, so please take a look. This chapter comes with some **trigger warnings** again for discussions of **suicide**.

* * *

"Soul Evans!"

Add the '_fucking'_ to the middle and it would have been Black Star but Soul found himself quizzically staring at the doorway to the hallway because it had to have been Maka's voice. A _peeved_ Maka voice. "Maka?" he questioned weakly towards the still empty doorway.

"Will you come here and help me, please?" Even less patience dripped off of that comment and Soul felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"Sure…" He moved slowly into the hallway, seeing her at the doorway with what seemed an infinite number of bags. "What…?"

She dropped the last of the bags on the floor, her eyes narrowing at him. "It was your birthday," Maka hissed.

"Oh…" Soul smiled tentatively as he tried to wave the comment off. "Yeah, sure, while you were at the hospital, but it's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" It was a borderline shriek. "You should have told me!"

"Kind of didn't make the top of my list of worries," he shrugged before taking another step closer, trying to grab at one of her hands and finding himself barely successful, just getting a finger or two. "To be honest, I haven't celebrated that in a couple of years. Black Star doesn't even-"

"Not the point," she sighed before giving in and letting him take her whole hand. "I'm making you a cake."

Soul took a look at the arrangement of bags, some with groceries poking out and others with pans before letting a laugh tumble off his lips. "OK. I'm definitely _not_ helping, or I can't if you actually want it to taste any good."

Maka huffed out a sigh, "You can watch, but you're going to tell me all the things you want for your birthday while I make it."

"Told you-" but the glare on her face slashed the words right off his tongue. Soul busied himself instead with picking up some of the bags and moving them into the kitchen. He picked a bit of counter space on the end, far away from the oven, and sat on the edge. "How'd you find out anyway?"

"Serena." It was a healthy hybrid of sigh and huff that escaped her mouth as she started to unbag and arrange her cache on the counter.

"My mom?" Soul blinked as he let the words fall in a slow confusion from his lips. "You were talking to my mom?"

He watched her shoulder blades raise and dip innocently. "She left her number at the end of the letter she sent so I called her to thank her."

"Yesterday?" _Before the pizza, park, and crepes and admission that I wanted to get undressed or after? Because please tell me she didn't wheedle information out about that, too._

"No, while I was still at the hospital." Maka's words were a little less focused, her eyes more intent on the cake mix box. "But she texts me every now and then."

_Texts you!_ His mind was screaming as his hands itched to get a scroll through those conversations, to see what Serena was hatching. "And one of those texts included my birthday?"

Maka paused to fish her phone out of her purse, scrolling through the message trail before turning the screen to him. "She sent me a picture, you and Black Star when you were five years old at your birthday party. You can scroll and read the rest."

Soul flicked his thumb once, seeing the dreaded question of '_when's his birthday?' _plus too many question marks to count followed by walls of text on each side. He didn't settle down to read what he knew to probably be a dissertation on his guarded nature and simply let her phone down on the counter. "Sorry."

"I just…" She paused to pour more ingredients in the bowl before turning to him. "I want to know _everything_, Soul. Even the insignificant stuff because you matter. All of it matters to me."

"Height? Weight?" he smirked even through her exasperated eye roll. "But, sure, Maka. Whatever you want, you just have to give me some time. It's not like I've planned out my autobiography or anything."

"Start with the boy in that picture," Maka murmured as she turned her head back to the task at hand.

Soul took another glimpse at the screen, trying to piece together who that was before stitching together histories from foggy memories. While she continued to mix, he started to spill. Soul had a brief reprieve as she started the hand mixer, something he had no idea he actually owned until she pulled it from the depths of one of the lower cabinets that was probably another Serena purchase that he hadn't paid attention to. As Maka poured the batter into round pans, he found himself picking up where he left off, stories of Black Star and Liz getting him into trouble as he rounded into middle school.

"From what I heard it wasn't always them getting you into trouble," Maka shot a grin over her shoulder as he finished another tale that ended them in the principal's office.

"I may have started one or two fights," Soul shrugged innocently. Maka opened her mouth and shut it again, only catching air rather than releasing words. He watched her do it again before he popped off of the counter to rest a soft hand on her arm. "Say it."

She looked at him, a sigh breaking between them. "Was Wes like that?" She watched as the whites showed more in his eyes and the fear that kept her quiet swelled again. "That was a stupid question. I shouldn't have asked, there was no reason-"

"It's OK." Soul broke her off not just with his words but his body as he moved behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, letting his chin dip to her shoulder. "I guess that's the one thing I'm even rustier talking about." He pressed his lips to the fabric of her shirt, taking in a long breath of her scent. "We looked a lot alike but he was always better with people. I'd snap, I'd fight, but Wes had infinite patience. I can't even remember a time he yelled at me and I gave him plenty of reason to. Even that night, when I was drunk, he didn't lecture or tell me how much trouble I was in. Just laughed that I'd '_feel it in the morning.'_"

That last thought had snuck up on him, creeped out of his mouth without hesitation. In the back of his mind, he was strangely convinced it was her, that Maka teased this kind of stuff out of people and he definitely wasn't immune. "I miss him," Soul finished. It came not just with that ache of sadness but a note of finality, words he had never before let come out of his mouth, a wound finally lanced.

Maka patted the hands around her waist and he released her, allowing for her to bend and place the pans in the oven before setting the timer on the stove. When she turned back to him, Maka threw her arms around his neck, pulling him as tightly to her as she could manage. "Soul, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He let his fingers start to drift up and down her back. "Maybe… maybe it kind of feels good to talk about it. Or not good, but it feels like I can. Like maybe I should."

"Then keep talking," Maka murmured. "I'm listening."

She held him for a few more minutes, no actual talking being done except for with tender touches. As they released she began guiding him to the couch, bringing him back to what he called the 'bad day' position in his mind, his head resting so comfortably on her chest as she absently played with his hair. It was cramped, but the closeness was all he wanted as he started to let the lesser-known histories drip from his tongue. His brother's name finally didn't feel like a curse.

The timer rang and Maka forced him to stay pressed into the couch as she disappeared back to the kitchen. There had been a subtle drift of chocolate in the apartment but now it was hitting him in the face, causing a growling in his stomach that refused to be ignored. She appeared again, the start of a victorious smile on her lips. "Cake?" Soul sat up hopefully.

Maka shook her head, "It has to cool, then icing. Pick a movie, that should be enough time for it to cool down."

"I want to tell you one more story." His hands were reaching for her, grabbing as soon as she came in range and bringing her back to their position. It felt slightly different, this time his arm tight around her waist, keeping her anchored to him. "I'm not… I don't want you to be scared or worried, just… I don't know why but I feel like I can say it today, so I want to."

"Alright, Soul." The trembling in her voice infected the rest of her body until she felt his lips softly touch to her neck.

"You were the first person, besides doctors, that I said it to, that I said I tried to kill myself." His fingers clenched into her side, holding her steady. "That day was pretty normal, honestly. Mom… Mom was trying really hard, like usual. She even wanted to take the day off and be with me but I told her to leave. She didn't fight back and she went with Dad and I guess that was when I couldn't make that other voice shut up. I'd never, _ever_ say this to her, but it was that last look she gave me before she went out the door, like I was breaking her heart being like this. That fed it until I couldn't take it anymore."

"I already had the cord. I'd hid it in the back of my closet for a few months. I threw all the clothes on the bed. I tied it around the dowel and…" Soul choked on the air, having to pause to swallow. "I honestly don't remember much else until Black Star opened the door. That's what you don't think about, you know? Who's going to find you and what that's going to do to them. He was the last one I expected and _fuck_ do I regret it. I'd take it all back just to never see that look on his face when he put the pieces together. He was scared, he was angry, and the worst part is I could see the guilt like he actually did something to be guilty about."

Maka was frozen, suddenly imagining herself in Black Star's place. "Were you…?" _How do you ask 'were you strangling, dying when he found you?'_

"The dowel broke," the matter-of-factness to his voice chilled her. "But the rope was still around my neck. I couldn't take it off. Black Star did because he didn't want Mom to see it."

The hand that had been caressing through his hair was pulling him closer now as she turned her body so her other arm could sling around him. There wasn't a definitive place where she ended and he started, just crushed together on the couch.

"Maka, it's OK," he murmured. "I told you, it wasn't to scare you."

"It did," she whispered back quickly, hands somehow tightening on him.

"I'm not going to let it get like that again," Soul sighed against her neck. "Please, believe me. Sometimes it sucks and sometimes it's hard, but I want this life."

Maka let out a long, withering breath. "I love you."

There was no better salve than that and Soul felt his breath come back easily. He forced her grip to relax giving him enough space to tilt his chin up to bring their lips together. "I want you to try to promise me the same thing," he murmured. "I know it didn't get to that point for you, but…"

She didn't let his words trail off, quickly giving in to his request, "It's not going to get like that again, Soul. Not for either of us."

_We're together, that's what makes it impossible. Maybe it's stupid, but that's what it feels like: together, me and her, we're invincible. _His sigh was nothing more than relief, giving way to another long, slow kiss. It was to comfort but also to peel away the worry from her. Every touch tried to tell her, '_I'm here, I'm OK, don't worry'_ until she finally relaxed into him and let go of her stranglehold.

He eventually got free enough to put on a movie but found he was more interested in keeping up those soft touches than with the plot. Maka was half-heartedly watching, her attention flitting between the screen, him, and the occasion check to the cake in the kitchen. It was probably her fourth time in the kitchen and she had been gone so long that Soul found himself sitting up, fingers tapping on his knees. When she had said cake it had been cute, ultimately better than no cake, but he was sure still nothing that out of the ordinary.

As the seconds ticked by, Soul found an absurd little ball of excitement starting to grow in the pit of his stomach. By the time her footsteps were in the hall, he was literally on the edge of his seat, barely staying put on the couch. Maka turned the corner, her hand carefully shielding the tiny flame to keep it alight. The deep concentration on saving the candle kept her from seeing that quick blink of childish delight across Soul's face. He let it exist for only a second before covering it with a laugh. "Really, Maka?"

"It's not a birthday cake with a candle!" She fussed as she slowly sat the plate down on the coffee table. "And you better blow it out and make a wish. If you don't wish, you're in deep trouble." She sunk with a huff to the floor, patting the spot next to her.

"How are you going to know?" He teased as he dropped down to her level, smiling deviously as his eyes darted between her and the candle.

"I'll know," she prodded him. "Go ahead, blow."

Soul stole one kiss from her lips before turning them towards the candle, blowing softly so the flame sputtered out. He didn't really have to think about the wish all that much, the thought instantly coming to his mind as he watched the small tendril of smoke. _I want her to stay with me forever._

* * *

Maka had been arguing on the phone for at least the last fifteen minutes as Soul lay on his back on the bed. It was day five of her being home, therapy all day as if she were in school, his apartment by three or four, and then home by eight sharp. That had been the plan today as well, but then Spirit called, of course throwing the wrench into the cogs.

"I'm not guilting you," Maka repeated as her feet stomped in the ditch she'd been running into the floor since the phone call started. "I'm just being honest, Papa. I'm not staying at the apartment by myself. If you're not going to be there, I'm staying with Soul."

He wanted to feel for her right now, he really did, but the excitement of the prospect of her staying made him want to throw the phone out the window and just tackle her into the bed. It wasn't even the touching game, either, it was the fact that it'd been weeks since she'd just slept next to him since he'd gotten the thrill of waking up tangled next to her. He even missed finding her hair magically shed on his nightshirt.

"Papa, that's absolutely absurd," she groaned, "and completely none of your business. I'm staying, and for my sanity, I'm turning off my phone. If you actually really need me, text Liz and she'll text Soul."

_Oh, Liz'll love that._ Soul glanced at his own phone, contemplating sending Liz a preemptive '_I'm sorry'_ text before tossing it as Maka dropped hers for her ear.

Maka followed through with her threat, turning off her phone as she turned to wave the lifeless brick of technology at him. "He's insane!"

"I guess meeting me didn't convince him I wasn't a serial murderer?" Soul offered with a grin.

"All he can think about is that I'll end up just like him with a baby before I'm twenty-five." Maka let out a long sigh as she dropped her phone on the desk.

"Getting pregnant requires having sex, so," Soul shrugged before his own words registered back in his mind. "Not that I'm saying, well, that it's a problem, I mean-" _Oh, fucking brother._

Maka cut him off with a bright laugh before she moved to the bed in order to kneel next to him. "Maybe we should talk about that."

"Not getting pregnant?" he squeaked.

Maka snorted out a laugh, "And having sex."

"OK," Soul breathed out, finding no more air to actually perform that talk.

"Does your offer still stand?" Maka slowly laid down next to him, her finger tracing the line of his sternum.

"What offer?" Soul murmured as he intently watched her face. Like the million times before he was ready to see fear there, apprehension, but she seemed to be holding onto an amused joy.

"Well, you made two. That you want to make me…" a little of her boldness faltered, a laugh breaking off the last word. "And that you wanted to take off your pants. I was wondering if we could start with that one tonight since I'm staying and I'll have the time to enjoy it."

_Enjoy it_, he thought woozily. "Just my shorts?"

Maka nodded, her hand now resting on his chest. "Start there."

Soul took a deep breath, hating how he still felt like he had no choice but to bring his eyes to the ceiling. _She's already seen your chest, that was fine, this will be fine_, but his eyes still focused away from her as his hands grabbed at the waistband of his shorts. He slipped them down, bringing his knees up so he could get them off completely and throw them over the edge of the bed.

There wasn't a gasp, not even a smart comment like the first time. Instead, he felt her hand lift from his chest and land again right above his knee, trailing a line along the skin that had been hidden so long. Maka didn't even hesitate as she hit the line of his boxers, lifting the fabric as far as it would go. She repeated the action, this time instead of a finger her hand traced along the inside of his leg.

No matter the tumult his brain was in, his body was on fire, and, much to his chagrin, his boxers started to tent as that want for her touch overpowered everything else.

"So there is someplace I can touch to turn you on." Her voice was so sweetly filled with victory that he had to turn his head to look at her, to catch the delight twinkling in her eyes. That was the only thing shining there as she looked back towards his legs, making another sweep with her hand over the damaged skin.

"No one's touched me there in a while," he whispered back hoarsely.

"How long have you been hiding this?" Maka slowed the back and forth movement, taking time to trace one or two scars.

Soul pressed a hand to his eyes, trying to focus on her fingers against his skin and not his sudden urge to cry from a healthy mixture of self-hatred and embarrassment at the memory. "Kim's the last one. When it got bad enough, when she couldn't look at me with anything other than pity when I got naked, that's when I broke it off with her. Didn't let anyone touch me since."

Maka pressed her lips together, trying to gather the right words and finding the ones she had still not good enough, "Have you… not wanted to?"

"Wanting isn't the problem." His hand came down over hers, stopping the motion and bringing her eyes back to his. He searched again, trying to find that all too familiar look, the one that said his skin could only be sorrowful. Her eyes only looked questioning as her fingers tried to break free. "Why don't you hate it?" It was a frustrated growl especially as the want was still washing over him, calling for him to let her hand go.

"Because it's part of you," she murmured back.

With a defeated breath, he let her hand go, feeling as it instantly climbed back up his leg. Maka didn't stop at his boxers, letting her hand glide over the fabric, her hand rubbing along the length of him. A low groan broke from his lips as he let his hips tilt to press harder. The friction was a perfect sort of agony and she egged it on again as her hand trailed back down.

"Can you do me a favor?" Her lips were now right next to his ear as if there were others in the room to hear her secret.

The hazy tingle was almost shutting off his brain but he managed, "Anything."

"Can we try your first offer now? It'd be, well, kind of a first for me." Her laugh at the end was weak, breathy, and it broke him from his trance.

He was careful not to let his hand fall to her throat, just his fingers under her chin to tip her eyes back to his. "No one's ever…?"

"Faked a lot," Maka tried to smile. "Had a few by myself, but, no, sex was always about them, not to mention I couldn't really get out of my head enough to get into it. So I'd like to try."

"Yes," was the first gut reaction from his mouth and while his head told him it was stupid, the strengthening of the smile on her face made his lack of eloquence insignificant. "Then, can I ask you to move? To get undressed?"

"I have a certain position?" Maka blinked at him, that weak smile turning into a grin.

"Hell yeah," Soul smirked back before quickly forgetting himself as he sat up against the headboard. "Take it all off and then sit here," he motioned between his legs.

Maka paused her hands at the hem of her shirt. "Take yours off too."

"Whatever you want." There was no agonizing this time, no thought of what that fabric was uncovering, only her request as he threw his shirt off.

Maka joined him, ditching her shirt quickly but finding her hands hesitating at her waistband. _It's Soul. It's him. You're safe. And it's going to feel good, I swear. It's going to be right._ She pushed her underwear and her pants together to her ankles and kicked it the rest of the way off to the floor. Maka slid into position feeling odd as her back pressed against his chest. "Why like this?"

"I want both hands," he laughed against her neck. "Between the piano, the guitar, the tons of other musical instruments, I'll admit I'm pretty good with my hands."

"Was that a little bit of an ego?" Maka was about to giggle but his hands surprised her, drifting open across her stomach. She breathed in slowly as she rested her head back to bring them cheek to cheek. "Kim wasn't lying then?"

Soul pressed his smirk against her skin. "You let me know after." He was ready to push those hands up to her breasts but he paused, aiming to whisper in her ear. "This is me touching you, Maka. You can tell me to stop and I'll stop. You're in control. Please remember that I love you."

Maka put her hands over his just long enough to squeeze his fingers. "I know." Her hands moved to his legs, feeling up the side of his thighs.

He brought his hands to her chest, giving equal attention to each breast while he reminisced over their old practice as his thumbs traced her nipples. He was trailing kisses along her neck and shoulders as one hand slid down from her breast, resting on her stomach before slipping between her legs. For a second, he held his breath as his fingers pressed between her crease. Maka rewarded him with a short gasp, her toes flexing into the mattress.

She preempted him, her voice trembling out as a whisper. "Keep going."

He barely needed the encouragement as his fingers started slow circles over her clit. Regardless of the dreaminess of their relationship, Maka had tried to start this evening with a healthy amount of realism, almost sure that for her this might end up as a dead end. She hadn't expected the firmness of his touch and the tempting nips of his teeth at her neck, especially after all the gentle practice runs. Even though she couldn't look him in the eye, she could dip her head back and smell him, hear the loving whisper that he had started in her ear, touch the marred skin of his legs.

This was him, the man that she loved, and he was touching her in a way no man had bothered to before. Maka found her legs starting to tremble and a beautiful undulation rumbling below her stomach. She let out another sharp gasp for air, letting it devolve into a moan. His kisses trailed to her ear, biting gently at the earlobe before whispering, "Nod if you're OK."

Maka didn't hesitate, her head bobbing as she let out another trembling breath. Her hips were tensing, lifting towards Soul's fingers as he used his other hand to brace her to his chest. Those circles weren't slow and that wave wasn't building anymore but crashing, a euphoric tingle tracing out from her core. The sound from her throat was completely alien, a trembling groan that trickled weakly into a breathless sigh. Soul's fingers eased back to her middle, hugging her back to his chest as she panted through the end of the ebbing ecstasy.

"You did it," Maka murmured, a hand coming to her chest to feel her heart still thundering.

Soul let out a sigh of relief against her skin, his grip finally loosening. "Feels OK?"

"Ego well deserved," a breathless laugh tumbled from her lips. "I don't know if I can move to be honest."

"You don't have to," Soul chuckled. "Just relax."

"Nope," Maka shook her head slowly sliding closer to his shoulder so she could turn her head and come face to face with him. "I need one more favor."

"What is it?" Soul's smile was tentative even though hers only seemed to blossom.

"Let me make love to you," it was barely a whisper as her eyes locked with his.

"Maka, you just…" _Just got out of the hospital, just saw my legs, just had a man touch you the right way for the first time. _The words, the thoughts stopped behind a press of her finger to his lips.

"Truthful answer, Soul, one word, just yes or no, do you want to?" Maka let her hand fall back to her chest.

"Yes," he murmured.

Maka slid forward, giving his legs room. "Then take these off," she tapped at his boxers.

With a slow breath, Soul did as ordered, tossing them to the side. While he undressed, Maka reached over the edge of the bed, rummaging through her bag. That old feeling hit her, a sad Deja Vu, but she forced herself to look back at him, a nervous, worried Soul and feel deep down in her bones that this moment was completely different from all the others. This wasn't a vacant, temporary fill, this was going to be what she'd been looking for since the beginning.

Just as her fingers grasped the wrapping, his hand closed around her bicep, pulling her eyes back to him. "If it hurts or it scares you or-"

"I know," she smiled softly. "Can I be on top?"

Soul couldn't stop the gulp, the comical bob in his throat. "Whatever you want."

Maka ripped open the condom before taking hold of him and rolling the latex down his shaft. Soul breathed out slowly, even a mundane caress like that sending a tingling message through his nerves. She straddled him, hips up as she positioned him underneath her, his tip just playing at her opening. A soft sigh exited her mouth as she lowered her hips, trying to concentrate on the feeling of being full, trying to think of them as two pieces to a whole.

As if to prove that point, his lips pressed against hers as his arms wrapped around her. Soul made her stay there, unmoving, as his hands traveled her body, his mouth exploring hers like it was the first time. It was surreal to her, to be held there, for this act to be less about getting the job done and more about being intertwined, inseparable. When he finally allowed her a gap between their lips she smiled and whispered softly, "It's your turn." He didn't have a good reply in mind, especially as she started the movement of her hips.

Maka grabbed at the headboard for leverage, helping her to maintain a speed that brought a groan from his lips. Soul's hands moved to her hips, smoothing out the motion and urging her forward as his fingers pressed into her skin. He had brought himself forward, clutching at her with his face tilted up towards her neck. All he could do was let soft, disjointed thoughts flutter from his lips, a sweet list of everything he thought about her until an urgent moan broke though as his body hit its peak. His hands planted her against his hips as he sucked in air, the electricity just dissipating in his toes.

Once his air was back his lips were against hers, keeping her still long enough to remind her that this wasn't the past, this was her future, this was them.


End file.
